Return From the Grave
by SurprisinglyOdd
Summary: Those who are greeted with a bullet through the brain tend to want answers or revenge. Brianna O'Reilly wants both. But the road she walks is a bumpy one that will lead her to and beyond the flashing lights of New Vegas. Join Courier Six as she ventures through the Mojave to cause hell wherever it may be needed. Reviews hugely appreciated!
1. Ain't That A Kick in the Head!

War. War never changes.

Since the dawn of human kind when man first discovered the killing power of rock and bone, blood has been spilled in the name of everything, from gods, to justice, to simple, psychotic rage. It is merely human nature for men to fight, a flame that has remained, and will remain, lit for eternity.

In the year 2077, after a millennia of armed conflict, the destructive nature of man could sustain itself no longer. Atomic bombs plunged the earth into an abyss of nuclear fire and radiation. In a long and decisive two hours, the Great War finally snuffed out the dying flame of man. Or so it had seemed.

It was not, as some had predicted, the end of the world. Instead, the nuclear warheads ushered mankind into the next bloody chapter in human history, one which would equal its predecessor in bloodshed and conflict. Though man had succeeded in destroying the world, well... War never changes.

Thousands were spared the horror of the holocaust by residing in vaults - large underground structures built specifically to shelter those lucky enough to be granted entrance in the days leading up to the Great War. The impenetrable steel walls of the underground shelters protected their inhabitants from the nuclear exchange. When the doors opened, the dwellers inside had only the hell of the wastes to greet them. Though rare in number, many also survived the Great War from outside the safety of a vault. The intense radiation did not kill them, but transformed them into mutated, corpse like beings known as ghouls.

It wasn't long before the vault dwellers set out across the ruins of the old world to build new societies. Villages were established and tribes formed. Many also turned from the good ways of living and resorted to mindless raiding, pillaging, and enslaving.

As decades passed, what had been the American southwest united beneath the flag of the New California Republic, a government dedicated to old world values of democracy, and the rule of law. As the Republic grew, so did its needs. Scouts spread east, seeking territory, wealth, and resources. They adventured into the vast Mojave Wasteland and returned with tales of a city untouched by the warheads that had scorched the rest of the world. A giant, neon flytrap luring travelers from all over the Mojave. A city embellished with lights and sound, and filled with lively people and extravagant parties. A city dedicated to vice and sin. The city of New Vegas.

Past the glowing city, the NCR scouts brought reports of a giant, concrete wall spanning the Colorado River. This dam could supply the entire Mojave Wasteland with constant energy and clean, pure water which it so desperately required.

The NCR mobilized its army and sent it east to occupy the Hoover Dam and restore it to working condition. But across the Colorado, a different society had arisen under the name of Caesar's Legion, an army of slavers, rapists and marauders, united under the flag of the bull.

One year had passed since the NCR defended Hoover Dam from Legion invasion - just barely. The Legion did not retreat. Across the Colorado they continue to gather strength. Campfires burn; training drums beat.

Through it all, the New Vegas Strip has remained open for business, under control by its mysterious overseer, Mr. House. His army of police robots and rehabilitated tribals keeps the Strip in constant business, promising amazing sights and shows in its casinos and bars.

Amidst the war and chaos that continues to plague the Mojave desert, six couriers, hired by the Mojave Express, head along the dusty road to New Vegas. Courier six carries the package that has the potential to change the entire world. But business is never that easy. What seemed to be a simple delivery job for this this courier has taken a turn for the worst.

Because war... war never changes.

* * *

Waking up to darkness. Fluttering eyelids and dulled senses. Wrists bound by tightly knotted ropes. Thumping head from a heavy blow. Faint noises in the distance. Something scraping against bone dry dirt. Footsteps, much too close. Unable to speak. Ragged breaths. A voice, cold and venomous. Evil.

"Looks like our little birdie's waking up over here."

A click, then a light exhale followed by the dull stench of smoke. More footsteps, then ringing silence. Splitting headache. Dizzy, nauseous and paralyzed by fear and pain. Eyes opening to thick, impenetrable darkness. _Where was she?_

The same voice. "Take the bag off." Lazy, but authoritative.

Another voice, gruff and agitated. Bored. "Just finish her like this. Be easier."

"I'm calling the shots here." The other voice replied, "Maybe you Khans kill people without looking 'em in the face. But I ain't a fink, dig? Take the bag off. Let's see if our birdie's gonna sing for us."

Slow footsteps and low grumbling before the bag was pulled off the woman's head. She gasped for fresh air, one eye opening for just a moment before her vision blurred and doubled. The other eye was caked with blood. A flash of blinding pain and she flinched, teeth clenched in agony.

Moments passed and her head cleared enough for her to see. The pale light of the moon was all too bright. She blinked against it, turning her head just enough to see three people standing above her. The man in the checkered suit caught her eye first. He puffed out a cloud of smoke as his eyes scanned over her. His expression was calculating and cold, but betrayed by his eyes. They were sorrowful. Or maybe she was just imagining things. The venomous voice belonged to him, she could tell.

Another man stood to his right, a woman on the other side. She could hear breathing from somewhere behind her. How many were there? The others she could see looked different from the suited man, less... cultured. Both were dressed in tight leathers that did little to cover their muscular, tanned bodies. Intricate tattoos colored their bare arms. The woman, whose head had been shaven into two parallel mohawks, studied the captured girl for a moment, before directing her attention to the freshly dug hole at her feet. It was elongated, good for burying a coffin. Or dumping a body.

The man on the other side seemed bored but otherwise devoid of expression. He was bearded, scruffy, and leaned lazily against his shovel, appearing generally indifferent to what was happening around him.

After taking a long drag from his cigarette, the man in the checkered suit spoke up. "Hey there, doll." He drawled, swaggering past the leathered thugs as an indication that he was calling the shots. His eyes met hers, almost with sympathy. Almost.

"Sorry you got caught up in this scene, but I'm afraid your little package is much too important for me to let slip." He flashed a smile before withdrawing a small, shiny object from the pocket of his suit. A coin? Was that what she had been carrying? The courier had never thought to look at what was wrapped up in the package. Honestly, she hadn't cared about it at the time.

"It's a poker chip, darlin', just in case you've never seen one." With a small flourish of his hand the man tossed the chip into the air and caught it between his fingers with ease. It flashed silver in the moonlight. "And this little thing... It's gonna change the whole world." He smiled and tucked the object away in his pocket before extending his hand towards the woman next to him.

There was silence for a moment. Then the woman spoke, surprising the suited man. "We don't have to do this Benny." She said, avoiding his eyes when she looked at him. Her voice was tiny, unlike her appearance, and her accent was strong and foreign. Australian, maybe. Something like that. "She doesn't have to die."

"Now, now, doll, you know I can't just let her be. Don't want any loose ends and all that. Our birdie put up a good fight, who knows what kinda trouble she'll make for us." The man, Benny, replied. Predictably, he didn't lower his hand.

Her eyes met the courier's for a brief moment. "If we leave her here, someone will find her by morning. We'll be gone by then and-"

"Shut the fuck up, Melissa. Let's just do this thing, take the payment, and get the hell outta here." The scruffy looking thug looked angry as he spoke to the woman.

The courier strained her eyes to see what was being handed over. Of course she already knew, but the silver glint of the pistol still caused her stomach to lurch. She saw double. Her heart raced. She shut her eyes tightly, willing for the man to disappear. Praying for this to be dream. When she opened her eyes again she was greeted by the barrel of a gun, aimed right between her eyes.

"Sorry about this." Benny sighed, his voice thick with genuine sadness. "I wish there was some other way, pussycat." His expression warmed for a moment and he smiled sadly. "Who knows, maybe we coulda-"

"_Please_!" The courier croaked, her eyes round with terror. She hadn't the courage to meet her fate so easily, not like this. "Don't! There... There must be another way. You have the package, I won't tell anyone, you don't have to do this!" Every word was a rushed squeak. She wasn't concerned about sounding pathetic, not anymore. Deep down, she knew her words would mean nothing in the end.

The man shushed her gently. Though his expression was warm and sympathetic, he did not lower the gun. "C'mon now, baby girl. It's a bit too late in the game for a bleedin' heart, don't you think?"

She opened her mouth to protest further, but hesitated. Inhaled deeply. At that moment, it struck her that despite her pleas, this would the end. She was going to die and her body would be dumped and forgotten.

"Well, then..." She managed a smile and looked up into the cold, serpentine eyes of her killer. "If you're gonna shoot, you better not miss. And try not mess up my face too much, alright? I spent ages on my make up."

The man laughed. "That's the spirit, pussycat! Facing your demise with some courage, I like that! Now I know this must seem like an eighteen carat run of bad luck, but get this, pussycat..." His grip tightened on the pistol before he continued, "The game was rigged from the start."

A brief moment of serenity. A bang. And then no more.


	2. From the Grave

**Goodsprings**

**July 14**

**19:56**

Pale sunlight peering in from broken shutters. The whirring of a ceiling fan overhead, lightly blowing on the face. Ragged breaths tainted with the bitter taste of blood and chemicals. A flicker of the eyelids and she was awake. Conscious somehow, but not alive, surely. People weren't alive after they'd been shot in the head, after all.

_Where am I? What am I doing here? Why can't I move?_

_Am I dead?_

Shit, pain! Before she could make sense of what was happening, it hit her with breathtaking force, the most terrible agony she had felt, shattering her skull into a million pieces and adding a weight of ten tonnes to every aching limb, preventing any movement or struggle. She couldn't cry out in protest and beg for the pain to stop. Why couldn't she scream?

It was over as quick as it had come, calming down to a steady, dull throb, more uncomfortable than painful. The itching of her head was now more prominent, probably caused by bandages. Someone must have took her in, fixed her up... No, impossible. Her brains had been blown out, right?

After a moment, her erratic jumble of thoughts calmed and she was capable of logical thought once more. She decided to experiment with movement, finding that he could wriggle her toes and fingers, even twitch her nose. Opening her eyes seemed to be out of the question, however. Standing up would be an impossibility.

A voice. Male, gruff, and slightly muffled by what must be a heavy moustache. "Well, I'll be damned..." The sound of feet scuffing against floorboards as the man hobbled over to her... Bedside? Was she on a bed? The scratching of thin sheets against her bare arms made it seem that way. A hard mattress supported her aching body. She was lying on a bed. Must be alive after all. How 'bout that.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, missy. I sure didn't expect to see you twitchin' after what happened. Guess my sewin' skills ain't so bad after all!"

The stranger's excitement earned a pained groan. The woman wasn't sure if she could speak just yet. Experimentally, she cleared her throat and said, "Would you mind... Shutting up...? Just a minute... Let me... Shake off the cobwebs... An' all that."

"My apologies, ma'am," the voice replied, "I don't expect you to get up there an' tapdance for me or nothin', but you've been out cold for almost a solid week now. Forgive my excitement an' all that, but I'd like to at least see you open them eyes."

The old man's wish was granted almost immediately after he spoke. The young woman's eyes snapped open in alarm and disbelief. A week?! Surely she couldn't have been out for that long! How much had she missed? Where was her package? It could be halfway across the Mojave by now!

Her immediate plan was to shoot up from bed, jump to her feet and set out across the wasteland to recover what had been stolen from her. She couldn't quite get past the shooting up part. As soon as she attempted to sit up her stomach lurched, bile rising in her throat which she quickly swallowed with a shudder. Her head swam and her body trembled, her muscles unable to take the strain of such a simple task.

"Hey now," the doctor warned, hastily rushing forward to lie his patient back down again. "I know you're eager darlin', but it's gonna be a while before you're up and doin' the tango." He moved away from her to situate himself at the foot of her bed. With a chuckled he said, "Least I know you ain't a droolin' old vegetable."

She simply managed a groan in response.

"You should be a little more enthusiastic than that, missy. That damned bullet shoulda killed ya."

"Ain't that a kick in the head..." She managed a slight smile before a thought occurred to her. "How did I survive anyhow? I don't remember diggin' myself outta my grave and humpin' it over here while whistlin' a fine tune."

"You can thank old Victor for that," he said, "Dug you outta your own grave and wheeled over here right and quick. Stupid drawlin' moron's good for something, at least. And the man who shot you must have been the most cross-eyed son of a gun in the Mojave. You still got some burn marks 'round your head so he must have been right and close when he pulled the trigger. Only managed to get the very left side of your skull, doing most of the damage to your old brain pan."

Memories flickered behind the woman's eyes as the doctor spoke. She remembered looking straight into the barrel of an ornate, silver pistol aimed right between her eyes. Or slightly to the left, perhaps. She couldn't quite remember the finer details, but nonetheless, the gun had been aimed at her head, so it was not the checkered suited man's intention to let her live.

Checkered suited man...? Huh, that was right. Her memory seemed to be returned quickly, which was great news. She couldn't visualize the face of her attacker, though she was heading in the right direction.

"Anyway..." The doc continued, "I did manage to get all the bits of lead out of your skull right and quick. However you will have a... Rather noticeable scar on your left side. Darker patches where the skin was burned and of course, the stitches. And scar tissue, well..." He hesitated, "I'm afraid you won't see any hair growing from that little patch."

"And that's the downside to not having a gaping hole in my head?" The woman asked, "I think I'll be perfectly fine. You, on the other hand, might wanna worry about your own head. I've seen more hair on a mole rat's butt."

The doc chuckled heartily, slapping his thigh. "Glad to see you're optimistic, anyway, still able to crack jokes and all. Though I will get you back for that little comment once you're back in the saddle, you mark my words, little lady."

The doctor got to his feet with a theatrical groan and studied his patient. "Doesn't look like you'll be walkin' anywhere for some time." He said, "Guess you're stuck with me 'til those legs start itchin' to tango. You alright to stay awake a while longer while I look at them twigs, or would you rather I knocked you out for a bit?"

The woman hesitated for a moment. "Wouldn't say no to a painkiller and a good ol' sleep dart..." She mumbled. The pounding in her head was intensifying; it was a struggle for her to even keep her eyes open at the minute. Besides, there was way too much for her to make sense of right now, and her mind was already exhausted.

"Well, guess I could spare an animal tranquilizer, got a few of those in here..."

The woman raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "You sure that's safe, doc?"

"Works all the same." A few objects rattled from across the room before the doc returned, moving to crouch down by the woman's bedside. "Diazepam, oxazepam, ketamine... 'Slong as it knocks you out right and quick, you'll be fine."

The woman on the bed raised an eyebrow, not entirely convinced. Regardless, she allowed the doctor to gently pull her arm out from underneath the sheets.

"Oh, and before I knock you out," he said, "Mind if I ask your name?"

"Brianna" she replied, "Brianna O'Reilly. You can call me Bree. Or Anna, for that matter. Hell, call me whatever you like, it's a damn stupid name, anyway."

"Brianna, huh?" The doctor replied, "Never heard nothin' like that before. Well, I'm Doc Mitchell, nice to have you here in Goodsprings, Miss O'Reilly. And I'm damn pleased to meet ya."

"Pleasure's all mine."

She was out before the needle left her vein.

* * *

"They're getting pushier, doc. He was here again yesterday and he ain't just asking anymore. If we don't hand that poor man over... Cobb's gonna gather his little friends and burn this place to the ground. We can't just stand around here and wait anymore!"

Brianna's eyes flickered, a young woman's voice melting away the vivid pallet of her dreams until she returned to consciousness. She didn't recognize the voice, and knew only that it belonged to a woman of about twenty years old, who was obviously worried about... Something or other. A man named Cobb, wasn't it?

"Miss Smiles, I am a fusty old man with a bum leg. Now I don't know what you expect me to do, but we are not condemning an innocent man to his death." The replying voice was owned by Doc Mitchell, though he seemed uncharacteristically stern with the angry woman, who did not give a response.

Fireflies zipped behind Brianna's eyes as she slowly opened them, allowing her to finally take in the doctor's office. It wasn't much to look at, though it was... significantly better than most of the other places where she spent her nights. Surprisingly intact bookshelves were littered with scorched, pre-war books and journals. Other shelves contained medical kits and old, faded photographs barely visible behind dusty, broken glass.

The swinging lightbulb overhead was mostly protected by an old, busted shade. It offered plenty of light, enough to illuminate the test tubes and chemical sets which had been neatly placed along a long desk. Most contained bright, harsh looking chemicals of an unknown sort.

Looking around, she could see Doc Mitchell's shadow in the hallway. He stood with his arms folded, looking down at a shorter figure who was clearly visible as she leaned against the doorframe, obviously exhausted and angry.

Footsteps scuffed against the dry floorboards as the doc made an appearance in his office. He gave a long weary sigh before glancing down at his patient, who returned his gaze with a quizzical expression, obviously expecting some explanation to cover the overhead conversation between him and "Miss Smiles".

"Ah, looks like my patient's finally awake." He said loudly, glancing behind his shoulder to make sure that "Miss Smiles" had heard him.

"Oh, really? Great!" The woman replied, every trace of anger quickly disappearing from her voice as she hurried into the room. "Have I been dying to meet you, missy!"

"Hunh...?" Brianna mumbled, rubbing her eyes tiredly to get a clear view of the woman at her bedside. She was clearly Hispanic, with full lips, a narrow nose and tanned skin. Every feature suited her well, especially her large, brown eyes which looked atypical for her heritage, but not unpleasantly so. She was pretty, with sun kissed, strawberry blonde hair tied up into a loose, wavy ponytail. Her worn leather armor had seen many a skirmish, judging by the slight frays and discoloring. Although quite short and slim, she looked tough, definitely not someone that could be walked over easily.

"Of course!" She chirped, "Not every day you hear of someone returning from the dead." After a pause she continued, "And I kinda want to know what happened to you. You don't really look like the dangerous sort."

"Can't imagine I do, considering the hole in my head." Brianna managed.

"Fair point indeed!" The woman smiled. "So... What did happen to you? I heard rumors, but none of 'em are exactly, uh... Realistic. You didn't climb outta your grave with guns blazin', dressed in a chainmail bikini, did ya?"

She earned a chuckle with that one. "Might wanna advise your informant to say no to chems. But I don't wanna look bad, so you tell the good folks 'round here that that's exactly what I did."

The woman smiled, extending a hand. "Can't look worse that you already do! Name's Sunny, Sunny Smiles. Glad to meet ya."

She managed to reach out and give Sunny's hand a weak shake. "Sunny Smiles, you sound like the heroine of a four-year-old's picture book. Names Brianna, Brianna O'Reilly."

"Or Bree, or Anna." The Doc added from across the room, "Girl's very creative with her nicknames."

"Well, it's great to meet you, Brianna or Bree or Anna. I'll be happy to help out once you're up and outta here again; I know a good deal about surviving the wastes, if you're interested."

Brianna managed to prevent the smirk that threatened on her lips. Like she needed help surviving the wasteland! She was a courier, after all. She'd been places, seen things, and new more than enough to get by. "I'll think about it," she lied, "But you gotta tell me who Cobb is first."

Sunny's lips pressed together tightly; she was obviously reluctant to share any information. "Just some asshole makin' trouble." She lied, avoiding Brianna's gaze. "Nothin' to worry about."

Brianna lifted an eyebrow, wholly unconvinced. Sunny Smiles would have been a convincing liar had Brianna not just overheard her discussion with the doc.

"Nothing to worry about, huh? So him marchin' in here and burnin' this place to the ground... That's nothin' to worry about, right? Just something you deal with often?"

Sunny released a defeated sigh. "He has some... Interesting friends. Powder Gangers, they call themselves. Bunch a' convicts that escaped prison a while back. They're very dangerous people, armed with more fuckin' dynamite than you can-"

"Sunny!" Mitchell snapped. "I didn't spend all this time patchin' up holes in her head for my patient to go waltzin' around playin' do-gooder an' gettin' herself blown up!"

"She's gonna be a part of this, doc!" Sunny snapped in return. "This girlie's a fighter, y'hear me? I don't think she's the type of person that would leave us behind to face those Powder fuckers by ourselves. We can't just leave her in the dark."

Wait, what was that? Brianna frowned and looked at the woman in confusion. She hadn't known Sunny Smiles for more than five minutes and yet the chick was already analyzing her, going so far as to assume that she would risk her life for the town she had nearly died in? Bullshit.

Thankfully, the doc voiced Brianna's own opinions, "This girl has been right and decent so far, but we don't know her. Don't go makin' silly assumptions, alright?" He was angry, it was obvious in the way he glared at her. After a moment, however, his expression softened into one of sympathy. "Don't want ya gettin' hurt or nothin'."

Sunny nodded slowly, her shoulders slumping in defeat.

"Now, my patient needs to rest. I'm sure this is a lot for her to take in." The doc moved towards his bookshelves, probably searching for another tranquilizer to knock her out with. Or maybe to knock Sunny out with, before she could make another outburst.

"Yeah, sure." The woman replied, looking towards Brianna with an apologetic look softening her features. "I'm sorry, alright? I just... Expect too much of people. I'll be seeing you soon, alright?" She said, turning and quickly leaving the room before Brianna could reply.

"Don't you take her too seriously." The doc warned, seating himself on a plastic chair next to her bed. "She's smart, but gullible. Easily taken advantage of. Sometimes she gets carried away, always seeing the good in people whether it's there or not."

"Guess it ain't a bad way to be..." Brianna mumbled.

"Well, you do have a point. But even so, I wouldn't wanna see her gettin' hurt because of... misplaced trust."

She nodded in agreement, ignoring the suspicion in the doctor's face as he spoke to her. "Still, she doesn't seem half bad. At least she's willing to deal with the, uh... Power Gangers, right?"

The doc didn't bother correcting her. "Last thing this town needs is a god damn gunfight. And if Cobb keeps true to his word, there'll be more than guns blazin'. Bastards have more dynamite than you could count. Hell, you'd be blown sky high before you could even try."

"So what, then? You hand over an innocent man in the interest of a quiet life?"

"Now that, girlie-!" The doc held himself back, "... Is outta the question too, I suppose."

"Then there's nothin' else to talk about, here."

"Right you are."

She nodded, tired of the conversation.

"Well, glad that's cleared up," the doc replied wearily. "Sorry for dumping all of that on you."

"People talk. I would have found out anyway, about the Power Gangsters. Guess I'm stubborn like that."

"Indeed you are." The doc chuckled, "So girlie, how you feeling?"

Good question. One she hadn't thought to ask herself yet. How was she feeling? "Pretty good, given the circumstances, I guess. I feel a lot better than dead, I guess. Except... The fucking headache. A strong, throbbing pain that won't go away. It fades, then bites back stronger again."

"Guess that's only to be expected. I'm sure it'll get better over time, as long as you can bear it."

"Don't you worry about that," she grinned, "I'm tougher than intense nuclear warfare, and don't you forget it."

The doc chuckled, "I don't doubt that. But you wouldn't say know to a good sleep dart, I'm sure. It's gettin' pretty late."

"Actually, doc..." She hesitated, "I wanna try standing up. You think that would be okay?"

He looked genuinely surprised at the proposal and for a moment Brianna wondered why. Oh yeah, he hadn't been expecting to her to wake up, never mind get to her feet. That would explain his reaction.

"Well, you gotta give a try sooner or later. You think you're up to it?"

"Don't see why not. Besides, I can't lie here forever, I'm starting to smell." She grinned.

The doc's expression lightened as he pulled himself to his feet. "Well have I got news for you, doll. There's a nice hot shower waitin' for ya just out there," he gestured to the hallway, "Heck, I'll even spare my last bar of soap."

Her heart almost leapt out of her chest at the mere thought of a shower. Steamy, hot water rinsing away the blood, grime and sweat that clung to her, relaxing her muscles and just standing there, listening to the hot jets of water rolling off her skin... Those thoughts were enough to motivate her. "Then what are you waiting for? Help me out of this god damn bed!"

"That's the spirit! Ready when you are, doll." The doc extended a wrinkled hand to her. She took it, biting the intense pounding in her head and forcing her unwilling muscles to cooperate as she pulled herself up. The pain was becoming to intense to bear, but she clenched her teeth and heaved herself forward with a tremendous amount of effort until she was finally in a sitting position, already out of breath.

"You alright?" The doc asked, letting go of her hand.

"I'm fine..." She said through gritted teeth, "Just bitin' the pain..."

"C'mon, don't give up on me now, girlie."

She groaned, twisting her body around until she was facing the hallway opposite. The doc hurried in front of her, ready to steady her if the dizziness became too much. Blinking against the harsh lighting of the bulb overhead. She saw double, then treble. But she continued to bite the pain and shake off the overwhelming disorientation.

Slowly, she put one foot on the cracked, dusty tiles beneath her, soon followed by the other foot. The doc stepped aside to allow her room, standing just close enough for her to grip his hand tightly. "I can do this... Encourage me doc, c'mon."

"Oh, uh, okay, uh... Steamy, hot shower just along the hall, girlie. And a nice, juicy brahmin steak being fried up at the saloon. Think about runnin' the man who shot ya and gettin' the answers you deserve. Don't let the pain beat ya."

Her muscles screamed in protest as she shifted her weight onto both legs and gripped the doc's hand with the rest of her strength. She clenched her teeth against the pain and released a loud groan of agony as she attempted to stand. Brightly colored spots danced along her vision; sweat rolled off her bare skin and her butt lifted off the bed. She wobbled. Steadied herself. She was standing!

"Well I'll be damned..." The doc breathed, staring at her in awe.

His praise fell on bloodied ears, near deafened by intense ringing. Brianna's stomach lurched violently and she felt bile rising in her throat. Swallowing it only served to make the nausea worse. Her line of sight tilted drastically. She didn't realize that her body had followed suit until she landed back on the ratty mattress without the energy to get up again. "Shuh... Shit..."

"Woah there," the doc lowered her head onto the pillow, "You alright, doll?"

"Fine... Just... Hunh..." Her eyelids closed and she passed out before she could answer.


	3. Back in the Saddle

**Goodsprings**

** 17 July**

** 10:5**4

Teeth clenched in agony. Heart pounding. Muscles trembling in protest. A groan of exertion and doubled vision. Blinking against the light of a swinging bulb. On her feet again, groaning in exertion. Shaking legs threatening to give out at any moment. Pounding headache. Ringing ears. A test of will challenged by unwavering perseverance.

"That's it girlie, steady now... Slowly does it..."

The courier took a step forward. She wobbled, but with the doc's help she managed to quickly steady herself and prepare for another step. Then another. The pounding in her ears was enough to drown out the doctor's words of encouragement, but she didn't need to hear them. She needed to focus. Focus. Another step, stumbling this time as a sharp pain shot through her skull. She cried out in pain, but didn't stop. Almost there.

"Few more steps now, doll. C'mon, don't give up on me."

A few more steps and the bathroom would be hers. Washing off the blood and grime would be blissful, and she wouldn't say no to some alone time. She needed a chance to think about what had put her here, unconscious with a gaping hole in her head. She was so close now, enough to reach out her arm and run her hand along the doorframe. Another step and she was in the hallway, directly facing what seemed to be the only intact door in the building. She reached for the doorknob and tightened her hand around it, unable to suppress a wide grin of pride. She had made it.

"Well I'll be damned, girlie. You've gotta be tougher than a box of Tungsten nails!" The doc guffawed. "You head on in there. Take as much time as ya need!"

With that he hobbled off, chuckling to himself. Brianna pushed the door open, revealing a grimy but fully functional shower at the end of the bathroom. She wasted no time as she shut the door behind her, silencing the doc's comments about keeping the shower head below head level and calling for him if something happened. She appreciated his concern of course, but paid him no mind as she locked the door and and leaned herself against it to catch her breath. Her head throbbed painfully, enough to drain the energy from her muscles and steal the breath from her lungs. She questioned her ability to remain upright, never mind remove her blood splattered underwear. God, walking was exhausting.

Moving to the toilet was another test of will. If she was to get her underclothes off, she would have to at least be seated. She sank down on the cool porcelain and slowly, carefully removed her bra, suddenly aware of what little she had been wearing when she had made her way over here with the doctor. Her bra and panties were a light gray (they had been white when she'd bought them) and were adorned with black frills and lace trims. The soft fabric was opaque in most places, but entirely transparent in... Others. She cringed as she slid her panties down her legs, trying to convince herself that if parading around in her less-than-concealing lingerie in front of an old man was the worst of her problems, she'd be an ingrate if she didn't jump and sing for joy. She'd get round to doing that later, when there wasn't a hole in her head maybe.

She made her way into the shower after kicking off her panties, deliberately avoiding looking at her own face in the mirror as she passed it. She dreaded what it might look like, scarred and bloated with a massive dent in one side. She shuddered. Facial inspection could wait for later. Shower time.

After adjusting the shower head to shoulder height (because hot water would not be beneficial to a healing hole in the head) she hit the button only to immediately be greeted by at least fifty hot, steaming jets of water. Releasing a small sigh of contentment, she shut her eyes and let the water rinse away the dirt and blood that clung to every inch of her body. It would be nice to wash the filth out of her hair, but the feeling of cleanliness made her feel better instantly, though the pounding in her brain persisted.

For a few minutes she abandoned her thoughts and allowed herself to soak silently, with only the rushing water in her company. Eventually her eyes wandered and found a small bar of soap which she immediately put to good use. She could rinse off the filth and smell tasty at the same time? What could be better? Oh, yeah. Time to think about what had happened to her. What had put her here, and what had been taken from her. That would be fun.

A man in a checkered suit had shot her. That much was blatantly obvious. He had held up a small, silver object and waved it around before deciding that his 'little birdie' would look better with a bit of extra lead in her brain. That part hadn't been enjoyable. The object was metal, right? Shiny... Silver... No... Platinum! A platinum... Thing. A coin, perhaps? It was the right shape...

_It's a poker chip, darlin'.._.

A platinum poker chip. What the hell would anyone do would that? What was platinum even worth, anyway, and who would kill somebody over a tiny piece of ahiny metal? It had to be more serious than that. Somehow Checkers knew what she'd been carrying, even hired a couple of thugs to help him get it. Thugs...? Oh, right. Yeah. A man and woman, both in leather with their arms tatted up. The chick had two parallel mohawks which Brianna probably should have poked fun at. At least the bitch wouldn't have forgotten her that way. They were Khans, probably. And the man in the suit... She would know his face if she saw it. She knew that his hair was black and carefully modeled. His accent was familiar, straight out of a pre-war movie. She would recognize him if she saw him, surely.

Still, something didn't quite add up. He didn't seem the man to kill over a gram of precious metal; that wouldn't be his style. Besides, if he was rich enough to afford the masses of hair gel used to gloss up his hair then surely he wasn't too hard done by. There had to be something more than that. Something more...

_And this little thing... It's gonna change the whole world._

Right, that's what he'd said. Something like that, anyway. Maybe the chip was a key? A holotape? Or maybe the guy was a raving lunatic. She had no way of knowing. It was against her contract to screw around with the package, anyway. Besides, it wasn't like she had cared much about it at the time. It hadn't been anything but a job. And a free ticket to New Vegas, of course.

Sighing, she pushed back the tattered shower curtain and turned the water off. For a moment it ran cold along her butt as she bent to reach for a towel, drawing a shrill yelp of alarm from her lips. She stumbled, almost losing her balance for a short, terrifying moment. "Huh... That was a close one..." She mumbled, straightening herself up and stepping out of the shower. At least no one saw.

"Well, guess it's time..."

Ah, the mirror. She had resisted glancing over at it many times as she dried herself off. She was scared of what she might see, and yet she knew that the time would come sooner or later when she had to face it. Allowing the towel to slide down her body, she moved over to the sink and stared at the taps for a brief moment of indecision before willing her eyes to look up. Her own face stared back at her. Thankfully.

Her left eye was still caked with blood and rimmed with spots of blue and yellow. She could just about keep it open slightly. Other than that and the crimson stained bandage around the left side of her head, her face was just as sexy as always, if she did say so herself. She traced her cheek carefully with her hand. Her cheekbones where high and pronounced as usual, and her jawline was only lightly bruised from when she had been knocked unconscious. Her nose was still cute and adorable (she thought so, anyway) and her right eye blinked at her, perfectly normal save for a few small scratches around it.

She lightly pressed two fingers against the bandaged side of her skull, expecting to feel at least a soft depression where the bullet had torn away the bone and skin. Instead she found... Nothing. Nothing out of the ordinary, anyway. Somehow the doc had managed to restore her skull, leaving her with nothing but perhaps a small scar. Great. Now it would be even harder to repay the kindly old man.

It made things all the worse when her eyes found a small pile of folded clothes that had been set on the edge of the bath. She eyed it closely, finding that a small note had been placed on top of the blue pile. In scrawled handwriting it read: "These were my late wife's. Hope they fit. Look about your size."

"Dammit..." Brianna muttered, folding the note and setting it aside before holding up the jumpsuit. The doc's wife had lived in a vault, as was obvious by the large twenty one printed in bright yellow on the back. No underwear had been supplied along with it, only a pair of socks and large, black boots. She supposed that wouldn't be so bad; she didn't fancy the idea of wearing a dead woman's panties. Grimy as they were, her own would suffice for now.

The clothes did fit, being only a little tight around the leg and boob areas. She posed in the mirror for a while, making faces and appreciating her own figure. Her head still ached of course, but she wouldn't let that beat her. No pain would ever stop her from making cross-eyed faces in the mirror! In the end, it was the doc that did just that. A drumming on the door was enough to tell Brianna that she had spent enough time acting like an idiot. She wasn't sure what she would do now, but she sure as hell wouldn't be spending another second in bed, listening to the doc sing along to the radio. If she had to endure another chorus of 'Way Back Home' she would gladly put another bullet in her brain.

She left the bathroom with a noticeable spring in her step, obviously relieved that she had survived with only small injuries. Soon the pain in her head would dull and fade and she could skip out of the doctor's house and into the sunset, her trusty pistol at her side and a big ol' R91 at her back. Life would be good, especially after she'd gotten some answers from that scumbag Benny.

_Benny?!_

_That wa_s it! That was his name! She couldn't waste another second. She called for the doc, speeding down the hallway and peering through every door she passed until she found him sitting at the kitchen table, a mug in one hand. The steaming coffee filled the room with its rejuvenating scent. Mitchell looked at her quizzically, probably hiding alarm at his patient's frantic expression. He opened his mouth to question her but was quickly interrupted.

"A man named Benny. Gelled hair, checkered-"

It happened instantly, without warning. The faint ringing in her ears swelled to a deafening scream; the pounding in her head pulsated fiercely, threatening to shatter her skull into pieces. She didn't feel herself crash to the ground in agony. She was numb to everything but the pain. That god damn pain, taking control of her aching muscles and forcing tears from her eyes. She could take no more.

And then it stopped. Finally, the tension in her muscles was relieved and the splitting headache faded. Still there of course, but lingering in the background. More annoying that agonizing. She tried to groan as an indication to the doc that she hadn't clean dropped dead, but her throat was raw and all she could manage was a feeble squeak. She hadn't even heard herself screaming at the time, but she must have done a lot of it.

She felt the doc's hands steadying her, only causing her vision to blur and double. Black spots whizzed along her vision as her stomach heaved violently, sending a sliver of filmy bile rising up along her throat. She swallowed it quickly. Throwing up on the doc's kitchen floor would make the whole repayment business so much worse.

"Hey now, it's alright," the doc said, keeping his hands firmly on her shoulders in case she passed out.

"I... I'm fine..." She mumbled, blinking rapidly in an attempt to steady her vision. "I, uh... I dunno what happened. I feel alright now... Little dizzy, that's all..."

Mitchell took her hand and helped her to her feet. She was shaky, but despite that and the light, persistent thumping in her head, she really did feel fine. Her body had simply collapsed, leaving her wracked with excrutiating pain. She had lost all control of her limbs and every sense had seemed to shut down, leaving her with only the god damn pain to keep her company until she recovered. Hopefully that wouldn't be a recurring event.

"Dang, girlie..." The doc said, straightening her up and examining her eyes closely, probably checking her reaction or whatever it is that doctors do when their patients almost drop dead. "You alright? Looks like some form of a seizure you had there..."

In return Brianna frowned in puzzlement. A _seizure_? Would... Would that become a regular thing for her?

"Look, don't you worry 'bout a thing, doll; s'probably a result o' you spendin' so much time in my shower. Doubt you were thinkin' on old doc Mitchell when you were usin' up the last of my hot water."

She smiled. "Enjoying every day of my life, doc, just as if it were my last. Besides, s'not like I could hurry myself any more given the, uh, circumstances." She pointed to her head with a shrug.

"True enough I s'ppose." He stepped back for a bit, taking a moment to study her carefully. "I wouldn't say you've made a full recovery just yet, but if you wanna head on out and meet a few of the locals then you have my permission. Just try not to drop dead, y'hear?"

She considered that for a moment. As much as she would love to stretch her legs and take in some much needed fresh air, she honestly did not want to meet anybody else in Goodsprings. She already owed the doc her life, and the blonde, chirpy Sunny Smiles was already expecting her to fight off a gang of dynamite lobbing thugs. The less she came into contact with these people, the better. On the other hand, though, she would kill for a drink right about now. What she wouldn't do for an ice cold beer...

"Sounds great!" She grinned, her enthusiasm directed mainly towards the thought of getting tipsy and taking a long walk around the town. Maybe... Maybe she would pay a visit to the graveyard. That was where she had been shot, obviously. The graves around her had been a dead giveaway at the time.

"Good, good..." The doc said, seemingly distracted as he eyed Brianna's jumpsuit wistfully. She hoped he was missing his wife, otherwise she would be heading out the door with a little extra speed in her step. "Don't be too long or nothin'..."

"No promises."

* * *

It wasn't much of a town, really. Just a number of shoddy, dilapidated buildings dotted around a wide stretch of nowhere. The doctor's wooden bungalow was situated high atop a hill overlooking the town. From here she could see a few grassless pastures - mostly containing brahmin - separating most of the houses. Illuminated by the faint, silvery moonlight, the houses themselves looked inhabited but barely maintained, although most still stood upright. Each claimed their own twisted, rusty mailbox containing assorted junk. Brianna was drawn to the buildings further ahead, ugly brown things with light spilling from their windows. The largest building owned a flickering sign which served to let passersby know that it was a 'Pro Loon'. From what she could make out, one of the actual words was close to 'saloon', so she made a beeline for it.

The walk was quiet and the cool night air sent a chill running down Brianna's spine. She was grateful for the icy, dead air. It rejuvenated her, made her feel awake. For the first time in days she felt alive. Almost, anyway. But it was a start.

Not a sound came from the saloon as she approached it. That was to be expected, she supposed. It was a small town after all, mostly consisting of farmers by the looks of it. At least the place wouldn't be crowded, anyway. She could use a little more alone time.

The creature was on her before the door had fully creaked open. Covered in thick, coarse fur and pressing a weight of at least forty pounds against her chest, the thing bowled her over sooner than it laid eyes on her. Its breath was hot against her face, its teeth mere inches from her skin. Its growling rang in her ears as a wave of dizziness swept over her.

"Cheyenne, back!" A woman screamed. Suddenly, the weight was lifted from her chest and she could breath again. Flat on her back on the floor, she looked less than appealing as she clambered to her feet, brushing herself off and leaning against the door to steady herself.

"Oh my god, I am _so_ sorry!"

She didn't need to look up to know that the voice belonged to the ever cheerful Sunny Smiles. "Cheyenne, you get here right now. Good girl."

"What the hell?!" Brianna snapped, looking at the blonde haired woman in annoyance.

She earned a shrug in reply. "Sorry, but you shoulda knocked."

Brianna blinked, incredulous. "It's a fucking saloon! I would expect to be able to come in here and buy a god damn drink without almost being mauled by a fucking..." She trailed off, releasing a heavy sigh. Dammit, why couldn't she just leave things alone?! Oh well, at least she had the excuse of being stressed out and recovering from a bullet wound to the skull. That would cover her the f-bombs for now.

"Hey, look, I..." Sunny's voice was deeply apologetic, enough to make Brianna feel sickeningly guilty. "I really am sorry, alright? Cheyenne's a sweetheart, but she's protective and she's never seen you before..."

"It's fine. I'm sorry, alright? It's just, uh..." She racked her brain for some sort of smooth recovery. "I've had enough near-death experiences to last me for some time. And I don't think I woulda stood a chance against that death machine." She nodded to the dog, Cheyenne.

Sunny's expression brightened immediately. "No problem! And don't worry - she won't bite unless I tell her to." She seemed proud as she scratched the dog's ears, the thing still growling softly and keeping her eyes trained on the intruder.

"I'll keep that in mind" she smiled, scanning the room absently. The actual bar, she assumed, would be found in the larger room to the left. Now she was standing in a rather bare looking room, containing only a few chairs and a pool table. She was alone but for the bubbly woman and her canine sidekick.

"So now that you're on your feet, how do you fancy taking me up on my offer?"

Offer? Oh, yeah. Wasteland survival or something like that. Stupid and unnecessary of course, but she wasn't sure how good her coordination, concentration and sight would be after her little injury. Shooting up a few beer bottles would be a good way to pass the time too. Unless she could sweet talk the barmaid, Brianna realized too late that there was no hope of her getting a drink without some caps. Those thugs on the hill had no doubt left her flat broke.

"Guess it couldn't hurt," she shrugged. "What do you have in mind?"

"Just follow me," Sunny grinned, skipping past Brianna and out the door with the mutt following closely at her heels.

* * *

Needless to say, Sunny's garden did not live up to its name. Other than a few dying patches of weeds and shrubbery here and there, the small strip of land consisted of nothing else but dirt, separated from the rest of the "town" by an old, white picket fence. A long wooden bench had been placed at the end of the garden, supporting a row of empty sasparilla bottles.

"Doesn't look like you're quite packing heat," Sunny remarked, trekking across the miserable little garden to retrieve her hunting rifle. The thing was lying on the ground as if it had been thrown there absently and left to lie. It looked like a Winchester, but Brianna couldn't know for certain. Really, she didn't care about the finer details of guns. If she could use it to kill in style then it would do just fine. "Here, you can borrow this. Hasn't seen any action for a while."

She took the rifle, feeling its shape and weight before shouldering it. As far as she could tell, the thing was used mainly for hunting small critters. It would be useless against an actual opponent, especially one with a tendency to shoot back. She preferred things that sprayed bullets quickly, regardless of their accuracy. The phrases "stop" "aim" and "don't shoot that guy's head off" weren't really part of her vocabulary. Shoot 'em in the midsection and try not to die, that was her motto.

"Why not?" She asked, crouching down to meet the height of the bench. The bottles wouldn't be moving anywhere in a hurry, so she could probably spend a little time lining up her shot. Hopefully they wouldn't start shooting back at her.

"Cobb's been sending his little Powder bitches to patrol the town. Not much reason behind it; they're just tryin' to unnerve us enough that we freak out and... Well, you know the story. Poor Ringo's still hiding up there, probably shitting himself and feeling guilty..."

Brianna sensed that Sunny was talking more to herself than anyone else, so she ignored her mumbling. Taking a deep breath she lined up the shot, struggling to keep her aim steady. Happy finger on the trigger. Clicking off the safety. Now to fire...

Ge_t this, pussycat... The game was rigged from the start._

She flinched noticeably enough for Sunny to hurry to her side. "You okay, sweetie?" She asked, crouching down to Brianna's level and frowning with concern. "You're as white as a sheet. What happened?"

Her body was stiff for a moment until she regained her bearings. She felt Cheyenne nuzzling her side, the dog's long, wet tongue licking at her hand. The gun had fallen from her grip without her realizing it. "Sorry, I..." What was she sorry for? What had happened? "I guess I just got a little spooked... Bad memories..."

"Guess I shouldn't be surprised; you've been through a lot and all. Just shoot when you're ready, okay, sweetie? Oh! I'll buy you a drink if you hit three bottles in a row!"

Okay. She could do this. Steadying her breathing, Brianna retrieved the gun and shouldered it, making sure to aim carefully once it felt comfortable. The sights were lined up. She fired, the bang making her jump in surprise. Other than the initial feeling of alarm, she was fine. Of course she was. She was shooting sasparilla bottles, dammit!

Sunny beamed as the bottle fell with a soft '_clink_'. "Nice shot! Be careful when you're pulling the trigger, though. You gotta be gentle with it, don't jerk it. And try to aim for the neck next time too. The gravity should pull it down as it moves, so you'll be a lot more accurate. At least, that's what I learned..." She trailed off without any intention of continuing. Strange. Still, Brianna did as Sunny said, aiming at the bottleneck, squinting one eye, and exerting a steady force on the trigger until it went off with a bang. The bottle flew off the bench and cracked on the wall behind before landing softly on the ground.

Brianna looked expectantly at Sunny after every unsuspecting bottle had met an untimely death. She had only missed once when the gun had misfired. The thing really was a piece of crap, little more than a pellet gun for all the strength in its shots. Still, Sunny looked impressed as she took her gun back and swung it over her shoulder. Heck, she was probably astounded that Brianna had made her way out of the doc's clinic to start off with.

"Great shooting, sweetie!" The woman chimed, extending a hand for Brianna to pull herself up from her crouching position. God, the 'sweetie' thing was getting on her nerves already. Sunny couldn't have been more than twenty five, and Brianna herself was only twenty two. And yet it sounded as of Sunny Smiles was her grandmother by the way she spoke to her.

Regardless, she took the young woman's hand and hauled herself up, quite pleased with all she had accomplished so far. Her headache was still thumping ceaselessly, but certainly not enough to bother her. Damned then if she didn't deserve a drink or two.

"C'mon, I still owe you a drink, right? And I bet Trudy's dyin' to meet you."

* * *

She wasn't. From the moment the pair entered the "Prospector's Saloon" all conversations fell silent and eyes were on her. Looked like she had gained a little fan club; people would be dying to know about what had happened to the mysterious newcomer. They would bombard her with questions any second.

Or not.

The bar was almost entirely deserted except for a couple of locals playing a card game and a straw hatted old man enjoying a whiskey from the corner of the room. The barmaid, presumably Trudy, was in her midthirties and Hispanic. She glared at Brianna silently from behind the counter she was wiping. Silence continued to ring.

Brianna slowly made her way to the counter and seated herself atop one of the stools. Every one was empty, so she could take her pick. She looked at the sour faced barmaid expectantly for a moment before awkwardly clearing her throat. "Uh, I'll have a beer. Sunny should be covering it," she smirked, seeing the blonde woman seat herself next to her. Cheyenne stood close by in her usual protective stance.

The atmosphere went from awkward to hostile in a matter of seconds. The barmaid slammed her hands on the counter and leaned forwards until her face was inches from Brianna's own. "You listen to me," she spat, "I don't want you here. This little town has had enough trouble lately and we certainly don't need a stranger like yourself to come waltzing in with more trouble."

Brianna lifted an eyebrow, her expression not betraying the alarm and fright that was quickly speeding up her heartbeat. "Funnily enough," she retorted, "I was a little too close to death to come waltzing in anywhere. Sorry if I brought more trouble, though. It seems like bad boys just can't resist me." She smiled innocently, earning another glare of disgust.

"You best get out of my saloon and get out of this god damned town right and quick, missy," the woman warned. "Because by the looks of you, you're nothin' but trouble. Now I don't know what happened up there on that hill but-"

"Exactly. You don't know." Brianna snapped, "So keep your snooty ass out of it and go back to polishing glasses, I'm gettin' thirsty."

That hit a soft spot. Brianna could see it in the woman's eyes. "You ungrateful little brat!" She screamed, "Givin' this town even more grief than it deserves. Doc Mitchell spent every night making sure you didn't kick the bucket, and Sunny's been all to good with her little shooting lessons. I'd say some people here are a little too trusting of..." She paused for a dramatic effect, "People like you."

Brianna stood up, placing both palms flat on the table despite the protests from Sunny. "And who exactly are people like me, pray tell?" Her voice was as icy as the venom in her eyes.

For a moment she didn't think that the barmaid would continue. After a brief hesitation she answered, "People like you who would get caught up in all kinds of funny business. Drink, chems, money... I can see it all on you. People like you would gladly walk in here and burn this place down just for the sheer damn hell of it!"

"Who the fuck do you think you are?!" Brianna screamed, not attempting to hide her anger any longer. Her muscles were tense and her heart raced, sending waves of blood pounding through her head with roaring intensity. She ignored the pain. "You don't know a damn thing about me!"

"I know that Cobb hired you!" The woman screamed in reply, her voice trembling to betray her fear, "That's exactly what you want, isn't it?! You want to- to gain our trust and then... And then..." Tears spilled down the woman's cheeks. "You're gonna kill us all! Just leave us alone!"

Brianna blinked, finally silenced and unsure of what to say as Sunny quickly got to her feet and slid over the counter to meet the now sobbing woman. "Trudy, sweetie..." Sunny shushed the crying barmaid, putting an arm around her shoulder and giving her a reassuring squeeze. "Shh, it's okay. She's a friend, alright? Calm down... No one's gonna hurt you."

She couldn't leave the damn place quickly enough. A wailing barmaid, a roaring headache and an ice cold beer so far out of reach... It was too much for her. She slammed the door behind her and walked until she could no longer hear the sobbing. Whatever that woman's problem was, Brianna didn't want to know. It wasn't her place to get involved and she honestly did not care. There were more important things on her mind, anyway.

The cemetery loomed high in the distance, blotting out the neon lights of Vegas that buzzed so far away. Now would be as good a time as any to head on up there, though she wasn't quite sure what the point was. She'd read something before about assault victims always wanting to return to the scene of the crime. Maybe the same applied to her. She could also find some clues, perhaps. There would have to be a bullet casing, at least, and that would be enough to prove that she had almost died up there. No one could argue with evidence, after all.

She continued to walk, lost in her own thoughts for a while until she reached the base of the hill. That's when she began to hear noises. A whirring of some sort, then the sound of a wheel rolling over asphalt. She looked around, seeing nothing for a moment until the robot came into view.

"Well howdy partner!" the thing said, its tinny voice simulating a lazy, southern drawl to match the cartoon cowboy face printed on its screen. It wheeled over to her with all the grace of a refrigerator on wheels. A TV on wheels would he more accurate, Brianna supposed, watching as the thing drew closer.

"Who the hell are you?" she asked, not concerned with being blunt in her question. The thing was void of human emotion, responding to input with preprogrammed lines of code and data. Regardless of how well it could imitate human emotion, the thing was made out of scrap metal and cheap electronics. No sense in being nice, especially with the particularly sour mood she was in.

"Cowboy Victor, at your service!" The robot exclaimed, only serving to creep her out even more with its stupid cowboy accent. Still, it was kind of cute, in a weird way. The sweet little robot thought he was a cowboy. D'aw.

"Victor, huh?" The name was familiar. Doc Mitchell had said something about a person named Victor. He hasn't specified whether or not he was human, but she supposed that didn't matter. If this was the "stupid drawlin' moron" that the doc had told her about, then he had valuable information for her. "You didn't dig me out of a grave by any chance, did ya?"

"Indeed I did, little trail hand!" The robot replied. "And might I say you're lookin' fit as a fiddle!"

"Yeah, whatever. Look, I need to know exactly what you saw that night, alright?"

"Sure thing, partner!" God, that annoyingly cheerful voice was already getting on her nerves. "Saw you and fancy pants up on that hill with a couple other shifty buckaroos. Fancy pants waved his gun around and clean shot you in the head!" With his preprogrammed cheeriness the robot seemed delighted at this fact. "Anyway, I wheeled on over there right and quick to see what the damage was. Fancy pants and his friends had already skedaddled, and the didn't do a very good job of fillin' in the dirt. Looked like they were in a hurry."

"Fancy pants? The men in the checkered suit, right?"

"Sure as lack o' rain, partner!"

"Did you see where he was going?" She pressed, "Or any time before the incident? Did he ever show up here, say anything to you?"

"Well it's funny that you'd ask, partner. See, I saw him skulking around here a little while before you nearly kicked the bucket. Asking questions, I'd reckon. Probably lookin' to see where you were, where you were goin' and all that. 'Course, you'd never popped your head in before, so he didn't hear much."

That made sense. She'd received the package from the Mojave Express in Primm, a few miles south from Goodsprings. After spending a night there she had began her journey to New Vegas, intending to stop in Goodsprings on her way. Benny had found her before she'd made it there, obviously. Probably on his way to Primm for more details. Bastard.

"Huh. That's interesting. Thanks." She hurried off, not caring to spend another second with the cheery, talking television set.

* * *

The walk damn near killed her. Her head was pounding fiercely by the time she'd reached the hill's summit, and the muscles of her legs were raw and aching with exertion. A number of times she had almost past out or had to resist the urge to vomit violently. Still, she made her way to the hilltop in the space of about ten minutes, and the night was dark. The silvery orb of the moon hung low just overhead, declaring midnight to those who were smart enough to notice. The graveyard was nothing more than a few shoddily made wooden crosses and poorly filled graves. Only one stood out.

In a few more steps she reached her own grave. Looking down upon it sent a whirring mix of emotions through her. Her stomach lurched at the thought that if not for Victor, she might still be lying in there, freezing cold and bloated by now. Probably decaying in some places. Then came the thought that the men who tried to take her life was still out there with her package. Those Khans had probably crawled back to their tents, waiting for the next opportunity to destroy someone else's life as they tried to do hers. Finally, there was a feeling of triumph. She had survived, against all odds. She was alive.

It was the lighter that first crew her attention from the grave beneath her feet. Just a few steps away, it glinted silver in the moonlight, reminding her all-too-painfully of her late night send off. From where she stood she could see that the thing was ornate, probably expensive for a simple pocket lighter. She stooped low and took it in her hand, eyeing it for a moment and slipping it into her pocket upon discovering that no extra clues could be found from it.

Next, the bullet casing. Her eyes had to scan the ground intently for a while before she found it lying there, almost completely covered in sand. She wasted no time scooping it up. A nine millimeter Parabellum. Ironic. In her days traveling east she had picked up a few Latin words from Caesar's Legion and those who lived around it. On her off days she had read too. So of course she recognized the translation of the word "Parabellum".

To seek peace, you must prepare for war.

She tucked the thing into her pocket after a moment of hesitation. She hated touching the damn thing and didn't want it anywhere close to her. Still, if she needed evidence of Benny's godforsaken crimes, that was it right there, along with the lighter. And the healing hole in her head, of course.

She didn't feel like going back to Mitchell's. She'd spent enough time there. Unfortunately she didn't know of a another place that would offer her the same hospitality as the kindly doc had. Especially not the saloon, which had been her only hope of a free drink. Or at least something at a reasonable discount, but there was no more chance than ever of her sweet talking the barmaid into such favors. Not after what had happened, anyway.

Still, Sunny did owe her a drink.


	4. Bleedin' Hearts

**Goodsprings**

** July 18**

** 01:32**

"You didn't! You didn't!" The old man guffawed, slapping his thigh as his shoulders shook with uncontrollable laughter. Unbeknownst to him, the remains of his seventh drink had already been spilled over his lap. He was probably too drunk to care, since this was the third time he'd asked Brianna to repeat the story.

"Sure did!" The courier grinned, uncaring, from across the table. After a long, deep swig from her bottle, she continued, "Shot his balls clean off before he could take another step! Poor bastard never knew what hit him, but he rolled around there screamin' for ages before I could quit laughin' and put him outta his misery!" She laughed, not caring that her words were slurred and perfectly happy to relive her hilarious first sniping lesson. Besides, it was only her third drink, anyway. Or fourth... Or fifth... Sixth, maybe? Well... Whatever.

Another chorus of laughter erupted from the bar. Since Brianna had arrived, the entire saloon had quickly transformed from a boring, empty old waterhole to a cozy, smoke-filled bar. It hadn't taken much; word had spread quickly about the courier arriving at the saloon, and most wanted to know exactly what had happened to her underneath the stirring rumours. She had avoiding telling the story in detail so far, but the locals hadn't seemed to mind. A cheap joke or two and a few bottles later everyone was having the time of their lives. Well, except for Trudy who served their drinks in sullen silence, chuckling to herself at the occasional lame joke. Oh well. Not Brianna's problem.

Other than the surly barmaid, the residents of Goodsprings proved to be surprisingly good company. The cackling old man across from Brianna called himself Easy Pete, because he was a prospector. She wasn't sure how the name was relevant, but no one else seemed to care. Along with the drunk old man she had met Chet, a gun nut who apparently owned the general goods store next door. He was an okay guy, she supposed, if not a little stuffy. He had recently moved to the end of the bar to enjoy a 'cigarette' by himself. The foggy green haze surrounding him proved otherwise. Damn stoner.

Eventually it seemed as if most of Goodsprings had stopped in for a drink. Well, everyone except for Doc Mitchell. Brianna had considered inviting the old man over, but the thought had dissipated quickly. The doc would kill her if he knew that she was out this late, regardless of her being a big responsible adult. He would be right to, of course. She couldn't take painkillers with alcohol in her system, and the morning hangover added to her headache would be agony. But who was she to pass up free drink? Easy Pete had been ordering bottles of whiskey and beer by the dozen and he didn't seem to mind who took it. The doc could live without knowing about her little night out.

"Hey, sweetie?" Sunny's voice was just audible as the laughter ceased, and people returned to their own conversations. She was seated right next to Brianna in the booth, leaning over the table earnestly with her elbows propped up on it. She turned her head to Brianna, "Don't you think you should be heading back? It's late; you should be resting up." She smiled, completely unaware of how much she sounded like Brianna's mom.

Brianna was, she supposed, grateful for the cheery blonde's concern. From the time they had spent drinking together, she had learned a great deal about the woman. She knew that Sunny served as Goodspring's staunch protector, defending the little town against geckos, radscorps and other small critters. She was bubbly and talkative, a welcome change from Brianna's usual company of sour faced caravaneers and mercenaries. However she did go quiet when asked about where she came from, which did seem strange. She probably had her reasons, of course. Everybody's done bad things and all that.

"Sure thing, grandma," Brianna retorted with a smirk, rolling her eyes at the blonde as she took another long swig from her bottle. She had no intention of going back to Mitchell's, not when she was having so much fun. Besides, she wasn't nearly as drunk as she wanted to be yet.

"Hun, you gotta think of your health. And you gotta respect doc Mitchell too. He put a lot of time into helping you out and you know he wouldn't like you up this late." Her voice was warm, but stern. Dammit, who was she to tell Brianna what to do?

She groaned, already pissed off by Sunny's persistent mothering. As much as she liked and respected the woman, enough was enough. "You're not my mom, alright?" She spat, going against her better judgment. Hell, what judgement? She was drunk, dammit! "Just mind your own damned business."

She regretted her words as soon as they had spilled from her mouth. Sunny flinched, as if the insult had physically stung her. The expression on her face was one of genuine sadness and Brianna couldn't be sure why. As much as she liked her, she barely knew the girl. There was no need for her to take things so seriously.

"Look, I'm sorry, Sunny-"

The words were barely out of her mouth before she was cut off by an annoyingly familiar voice. "You. Enough. Out!"

Aw, great...

Her bottle was swiped away from her lips before she could even reply back. Looking up, she found the scowling face of Trudy glaring down at her. She seemed to have recovered from her little break down earlier, but that only served to make her more pissed off with the loudmouthed newcomer. She moved away from the table slightly, patiently waiting for Brianna to get to her feet. Dammit, what was wrong with this woman?!

She rose from her seat wearing a stony expression, her eyes locked on Trudy's. She'd had enough. She hadn't even done anything wrong and this bitch was making a show of her in front of everyone, just as she had done before! Well, not anymore...

The barmaid smirked as Brianna got to her feet, returning her glare with a look of haughty disdain. She drew herself up proudly, squaring her shoulders and waiting expectantly for the Brianna to finally admit defeat and walk away.

She was met instead with a stinging slap to the face, the strength of the blow almost throwing the small woman off her feet. Her eyes widened in alarm, her face a mask of poorly hidden disbelief. She staggered, her muscles trembling with the shock of being met with such force. The bar grew quiet. Brianna smirked despite herself and slowly turned to exit the bar in triumph. She didn't succeed.

An invisible force from behind grabbed the collar of her jumpsuit and threw Brianna sideways against the bar. It was razor-sharp instinct that told her to outstretch her hands, lest she topple over the bar itself and break her skull against the floorboards. She staggered, her head pounding. The vibrant colours of the cocktails lined up against the wall merged with each other; her line of sight tilted drastically. Brianna's stomach lurched as it hit the edge of the bar. Great. Puking up the night's drink all over the saloon would be a great way to sober up.

Somehow, she managed to regain her footing just as she was met with another staggering blow. Trudy's fist collided with the left side of her head. The fireflies zipping behind her eyes exploded into stars, consuming what remained of her doubling vision. The persistent ringing in her ears swelled into a piercing scream, deafening her to the sound of her body hitting the floor with a thud. Her stomach heaved and she was greeted again by the bitter taste of alcohol as it left her system the hard way. The pain was excruciating, the only thing she could focus on. It was fire, searing her body and eating away her consciousness until she was blissfully unaware of the next punch coming her way.

It was all a blur from then. A screaming voice begging for Trudy to stop. Another blow, colliding with the right side of her jaw and whipping her head in the opposite direction. The taste of blood on her tongue as she staggered, barely managing to keep herself upright as she leaned herself against the bar. Everything was spinning. The screaming voices were all too far away...

Far away, she felt an iron grip on her shoulders as she was driven from the saloon, a shrieking voice in the distance vociferating curses and demanding that she never return. She couldn't quite make sense of what was happening until she was lying on her face outside with nothing but cold, dry dirt to greet her.

"Hunh..." She managed, struggling to brush the dirt and hair out of her face. Hell, it was a struggle to even keep her eyes open at this point. The pain in her head had swelled to a strong, piercing agony where Trudy's fist had connected with her temple, narrowly missing the healing scar tissue. Brianna shuddered at the thought of how she would have felt then, writhing around in agony as her stitches busted, allowing the blood and brain matter to gush out and...

Well, maybe it wouldn't happen exactly like that, but she certainly wouldn't have been walking around any time soon afterwards. At least she could be thankful for something, even if it was only Trudy's very poor aim. Still, she wouldn't be spending any time in the saloon for a while, if at all. Whatever, she couldn't deal with another hangover anyway; she was dreading the first impending hangover enough as it was.

It took some effort, but after a few minutes of drifting in and out of consciousness, she managed to pull herself up onto her feet, thinking only of a warm bed and a stimpak to ease the pain. Of course, that wouldn't happen. Alcohol didn't mix well with stims, after all, and she was still pretty darn drunk from her night at the saloon. Pity it didn't end quite as blissfully as it had begun. "Oh well," she supposed, "Least it got a little interesting."

She sighed, rubbing her eyes and taking her first wobbly step towards doc Mitchell's. Despite the anger she felt (both at herself and Trudy), the cold air seemed to lighten her mood a great deal. It felt heavenly on her face, taking the edge away from the throbbing in her jaw. It even managed to sober her up just enough so that she wasn't crawling back to the doctor's house. In fact, in a moment of clearheadedness, she managed to spot a dark figure just out of the corner of her eye...

"The hell...?" She slurred to no one, taking a few more shaky steps to get a clear view of whatever it was she was looking at, a struggle with wobbling vision. On the hill, just ahead and a short distance away from the doc's, was an old gas station bearing the Poseidon logo. She could just make out a shadow emerging from the door of the dilapidated building, the faint outline of a man looking mighty suspicious as he looked around, as if expecting someone to jump him at any second.

Brianna's hand tensed on her right thigh, mostly out of habit. There was no gun holstered there to protect her sorry hide if the man spotted her. But as much as she would love to take a nosy around over there and check everything out, she valued her life a lot more than usual at the minute. Besides, the doc would go crazy if he found out that she'd been-

"Freeze!"

Aw, shit. God dammit he'd noticed her! Now he was slowly moving towards her, his right arm outstretched and aimed towards her. Brianna couldn't see the pistol, nor did she want to. She clenched her fists and grit her teeth, ready to defend herself however possible. With any luck, this guy would be wearing his balls for earrings if he so much as attempted to make a move against her.

In a quick, rehearsed movement, the man was behind her. Cold metal was shoved against her left temple, right on top of the fresh scar. Obviously her head hadn't suffered enough. Any thought of self-defence had also been blown right out of the water.

"Kindly don't move, missy, or I will blow your head off." He struggled to steady his voice enough to sound menacing and determined, but failed to cover the noticeable tremble of fear in his tone that betrayed him. "You ain't one of those Powder fucks, are ya? Don't lie!"

"Put the gun away..." She whispered, finding herself incapable of raising her voice to anything more than a pathetic squeak. Her body trembled as the icy metal pressed tighter against her skull. "Please... Just... Just take it away... Take the fucking thing away..."

A barely audible 'click' and the safety was off. "You best answer me right now, and we'll see how things turn out, alright?"

"I'm not with any Powder fuckers, alright?!" She blurted, paralysed by fear. Tears streamed down her face before she even realised they were forming. "Now just put the fucking gun away, dammit!"

There was a long, decisive moment of silence. Brianna's heart raced in her chest, betraying her fear to the trigger-happy stranger next to her. He would lower the gun. He had to, right? He didn't have any reason to shoot her...

"Wait a second..." The man said slowly, "You're that courier that got shot up at the cemetery, right? Sure match the description, anyway... Don't see you wearin' a chainmail bikini, though, so I guess the rumours ain't all true. Guess that's fortunate for me."

"You heard that one too, huh?" Brianna replied, forcing herself to smiling slightly despite herself. She breathed a sigh of relief when the gun was lowered, cursing herself inwardly for panicking. She wiped the tears away with her sleeve and whatever dignity she had left. Dammit, what was with her? Usually she would rip this guy a second asshole if he even tried to threaten her. Well, she'd try to, at least. But now...

C'mon now, baby girl. It's a bit too late in the game for a bleedin' heart, don't you think?

Dammit. That was what had frightened her. That damned voice echoing in the back of her mind and scaring her shitless before she even realised it. Sure, everyone had a fear of being shot the head, but they could at least take measures to avoid anything so unfortunate. She, however, couldn't do anything but beg for a chance at life, unconcerned with anything else. She had been paralysed, and that certainly wasn't a common thing for her. If she couldn't talk her way out of a fatal situation, then she would sure as hell try to fight her way out of it.

"Sure did," The stranger replied, "Didn't expect to see you poking around any time soon. Hell, I never thought I'd be alive to the see the day..." He continued absently, proceeding to scan around the town with an anxious expression. "And sorry about that. I'm a little on edge, in case you couldn't tell." His eyes, wide and bloodshot from days without sleep, searched the area frantically, never meeting hers for long. "And I'm real fucking sick of lookin' for shadows."

"Is that so?" Brianna replied, allowing the faint shadow of a smirk to play on her lips, "Well how about you promise not to blow my brains out when I turn around to get a look at your pretty face. Then you can tell me all about that." She grinned, the alcohol taking control of her mouth once again.

The man let out a short, cynical laugh and slowly moved in front of her, stuffing one hand in the pocket of his jeans and keeping the other tense on the butt of his gun, now holstered at his thigh. He was a handsome guy for certain, with shiny brown hair nearly parted to one side, and soft, golden skin lightly kissed by the Mojave sun. Brianna resisted the urge to bark out a laugh. Okay, he was a pretty boy. His checkered shirt was neatly pressed and buttoned; his jeans were tightly belted and he wore a deep burgundy scarf around his neck. He looked to be a merchant or caravaneer, though of a more polished pedigree.

"Well aren't you gorgeous?" She purred, "I could just about eat you up, baby." She smiled, twirling a strand of raven hair around her finger coyly, happy at the opportunity to screw around like this again, even if she was drunk and not taking herself seriously. Pretty boy didn't seem to think the same.

He huffed out an irritated sigh and looked at her for a moment and, deciding she was drunk, decided not to ignore that particular comment. Instead he stuffed another hand into his pocket and looked at her, a serious expression worn clearly on his face. It was hard for her to tell at that moment, but he almost looked sad.

"Look..." He sighed, "I just... Fuck, I don't know..."

"What happened?" Brianna asked, recognising his defeat. "Why are you holed up here like a Mentats junkie? Are you... Are you Ringo?" That must be it. This was the refugee that Sunny was worried about. Damn, that would explain why he was so tense.

He nodded in confirmation. "Sure am. Ringo Hendricks. And those Powder fuckers... They know I'm here and they want me dead. Managed to take out a few of their boys when my caravan got attacked. Jesse and Laura... They didn't make it, but I managed to get away. And now they ain't gonna stop terrorising this town 'til they get what they want. Me, that is."

"Looks like you ain't in the easiest of situations, then. Who are these Powder fuckers, anyway? Bunch of convicts or raiders, right? Where'd they even come from?"

"Old NCRF facility a ways South East of here. Bunch of convicts taken in a while back. Turns out, it ain't such a good idea to give a load of dynamite to criminals. Bastards tried to escape and blew up anything that got in their way, including the good NCR folks up there. Now I guess they run the whole damn show up there."

She nodded. "Hey, I'd love to help, alright? If anything happens just give me a shout." Managing a half-smile, she directed her attention to the makeshift town beneath her, bathed in silver light. "It's the least I can do to repay this little town."

"I would be happy for your help, miss..."

"Brianna. Brianna O'Reilly."

"Thank you, Brianna. It'll be nice to have someone trustworthy at my back, especially if... Well, if worst comes to worst and all that. I'll see you soon."

"Same to you." She smiled.

And with that, Ringo Hendricks tipped his imaginary hat to her and walked off, leaving her alone once again on the hilltop.

**Goodsprings**

**July 18**

**09:32**

Her stomach heaved violently. Her head span. She could only grip the toilet bowl tightly to keep herself from falling over as she retched, puking up all of last night's drink into the toilet and feeling none the better for it. She almost gagged at the wretched taste on her tongue. Her lips were dry and cracked and she could think of nothing better than taking a couple of stims and lying down. Or curling up and dying. That would certainly make her feel better.

With trembling limbs she managed to get to her feet again, the headache throbbing fiercely against her temples. She was dizzy before she could even manage to steady herself, and turned to grip the edges of the sink before she passed out. Again.

So the drinking hadn't been a good idea, as she had already figured out. The pounding in her skull was tremendous, hitting with full intensity when she tried to stand up. Or do anything else other than vomit, for that matter.

She groaned, forcing herself to look in the mirror to see just how bad the damage was. Her stomach turned as she saw her own face, bruised and bloodied even more so than it had been when she had first arrived to the doc's. An ugly, purple bruise had formed along the right side of her jaw, staining the surrounding area with blotches of sickly green and yellow. A similar pattern had probably formed by her left temple, hidden underneath her dirty bandage, now caked with dirt and blood. The color of the Mojave had drained from her face, leaving her looking white and skeletal, with heavy dark bags hanging underneath her bloodshot eyes. Her bottom lip had been torn open and her hair was matted and wild. She looked like a god damn junkie.

It was all she could do not to crawl into the doc's kitchen. She could keep herself upright as long as she clutched whatever nearby surface she could find, and even that didn't stop the dizziness that constantly threatened to topple her over. Now this would be a bitch to hide from doc Mitchell who, she found, was enjoying a delicious meal of Instamash and mantis legs in the kitchen. The radio was on as usual, singing a smooth chorus of 'Blue Moon'. Her favourite.

"And what time did you get back at, missy?" The doc asked, looking up at her suspiciously as she entered, leaning against the doorframe for support. She could tell he was going to test her, something that her brain simply wasn't ready for at the moment.

"Around eleven, I think." She lied, not wholly concerned with being convincing. Right now all she wanted was a drink. Nonalcoholic, of course. She eyed the fridge, wondering if the doc would mind her swiping a bottle of water. She took her chances and headed for it, struggling to keep herself straight.

"Is that so?" The doc mumbled through a mouthful of potatoes and fried legs, "Because I heard you come in last night and it sure wasn't eleven." He sounded angry, but the blatant lie wasn't enough to catch Brianna out, even with her killer hangover.

"Then you must have better ears than a nightstalker to hear me over your snoring." She smirk, taking a small bottle of water from the fridge. She twirled off the lid and quickly drained it without a breath, closing the fridge with her foot and leaning against it as inconspicuously as possible. "Oh, and I'll pay you back for that water. Eventually."

She looked at him quizzically as he harrumphed in return. Damned if she hadn't given that man a lot grief. Setting the bottle aside, she managed to make her way over to the table and sit on the chair across from him at the table. "Thanks, doc." She said, "For everything. Without you, I..." She paused, unsure of how to continue. She had never really thanked people before, for anything. Usually she just... Looked after herself. She never owed anybody anything. And to know that she had relied on a complete stranger to save her life... "I wouldn't be alive without you. Thank you so much, doc."

He grunted, seemingly amused at how awkward his thank you speech was. "Don't mention it." He replied, "You're a decent woman, miss Anna, and I'm glad to have met you." He looked at her with sincerity for a brief moment before return his gaze to the cleared plate in front of him. He opened his mouth to speak a few times, but kept silent.

"Everything alright, doc?" The frowned, getting over her initial embarrassment.

''Sunny called for you earlier..." He began slowly, as if it pained him to continue further, "About that business with the Pow-" on second thought, he corrected himself. "Trudy. 'Bout that business with Trudy. They both agreed that, uh... It's best that you leave. Today, actually. Before noon, at best."

Brianna frowned. She could understand Trudy's decision, but Sunny's? Did she really hurt the woman so badly with her outburst last night? Something didn't add up. Of course, she was planning on leaving soon, now that she had almost fully recovered, but to be kicked out...? No, that wasn't it. She wasn't being sent away.

"Please don't lie to me, doc." She said, looking at the old man intently with sadness in her eyes. She could see the sorrow in his expression as he averted her gaze, and it wasn't because he would be sad to see her go. "Doc, come on..."

"Best pack your things. You have an hour, then you're gone, you hear me?"

She did, and the words stung her. Against her better judgement, she'd developed an attachment to the little town where she'd been buried. This was wear she'd faced death and laughed in the face of it. She'd met interesting people and been saved by a complete stranger. She'd been dug straight out from the Mojave soil, close to death. But she'd survived. All of that had happened here... She didn't want to be driven away, not again.

Sighing and cursing herself for being so annoyingly sentimental, she stood up, looking at the doc expectantly. Upon his silence, she left the room with a spinning head and a heavy heart. From the kitchen she could hear the doc's voice, a faint mumbling which she could just make out from the hallway.

"So much like Anna..."


	5. Ghost Town Gunfight

**Goodsprings**

**July 18**

**10:21**

She stood by the edge of town without any idea of where she was headed. Her head ached and her motivation had been visibly drained, leaving her body weak and barely able to carry the weight of the bag at her back. She huffed out long, defeated sigh. Yesterday she had known exactly what she wanted. Answers from the man who had tried to kill her, that was her main priority. After that she wanted revenge; she wanted to see the expression on that smug bastard's face before she splattered his brains all over his fancy suit. She had been confident and motivated; every wobbly step had been steadied by a sense of purpose. Now... Now She wasn't so certain. She had been thrown out of town and ahead on her way without a moment to prepare. In unfamiliar territory, she could only hope that the road ahead lead to Primm and not a nest of Deathclaws. Dammit, what was happening to her?! That bullet seemed to have shot her balls off, as well as a significant portion of her skull.

"Coward!"

The voice shook her free of her thoughts and threw her head first back into reality. Fuelled with anger, the insult rang in her ears, shaking her. More than anything, it voiced her own opinion of herself right now. Still, that didn't mean she would take too kindly to whoever it was that yelling at her. She frowned, ready to turn around and scream back before her thoughts were interrupted once again.

"Low-life, cowardly piece of shit!"

What the-? She turned around to see the familiar blonde head of Sunny Smiles inches from her own. The shorter woman shoved her backwards, her eyes burning with disgust and loathing. Her glare was venomous, her features twisted by burning hatred. "You said you owed this town something!" She screamed, "And now you're running away?! After all we've done?! I trusted you!"

The courier took a step forward, glowering at the angry woman despite her own confusion. She herself stood about three inches taller, looking down on the girl with a snarl. This was the girl who had ordered her away. What the hell was her problem now? "I don't what the fuck you want," Brianna threatened with gritted teeth, "but you just stay outta my god damned way. You don't want me here."

"Why, because of Trudy? Because I threw you out? Is that what your problem is? I didn't want anybody getting hurt, Bree, least of all you! Trudy... She's been through a lot, okay? And you threatening to-"

"You threw me outta the god damn town, Sunny!" Brianna yelled, Without the courage to even tell me yourself, might I add." She glared at the woman with icy contempt. As much as she liked Sunny, the woman had no right to try and lecture her. And besides, she had already made it clear that Brianna wasn't wanted.

"What the hell-?" Sunny asked, sighing in exasperation. "Look, I don't know what Mitchell told you, Brianna, but... Look, we need you, alright? Those Powder fucks ain't just playin' ball anymore. We have two hours at best until they march on down this road, and it ain't just Ringo they want. I guess we all knew that from the start..." She managed a sad half-smile. "This little town's seen a lot of blood. People here ain't exactly willin' to spill no more... But you..." Her eyes met Brianna's own. "You could help. Screw what the doc said, I really..." She faltered, "I really think you could help us out. For whatever reason you have, payment or whatever, I'm asking you. Lend a hand?"

The courier shook her head slowly, but not in dismissal. She was mostly just bewildered at the sudden whirlwind of information whizzing around in her brain. That damned doctor had been lying to her for starters, to get her out of the way. But why? To protect her from danger, or prevent her from dragging the town into it? Both options made sense, but she supposed neither of them mattered at the moment. Two hours was not a long time, but it was enough. Well, maybe. She didn't know how things would turn out, but they would turn out in some way and it would sure as hell be exciting.

A wicked grin spread across her face, making Sunny raise an eyebrow in question. In two hours the town would be greeted by a mob of explosive ex-convicts with their pockets full of dynamite. She had a measly two hours to recruit as many people as possible, barter with Chet for a supply of guns, face the doc and beg for medical aid, and try to sweet talk the victim of her last bar fight. Her survival rate was low and the stakes were high; she was defending a man she'd just met to repay the town she had been shot in. But dammit, it was a gunfight! Granted the opposing party would have explosives and there was a very high chance that her own allies wouldn't have guns (or be there at all)... but it was a god damned gunfight! And it had been too long.

"Sweetie, I don't know if I like that look on your face," Sunny said, the hint of concern in her tone not enough to hide her amusement. Still, she couldn't suppress the smile that was flickering on her lips. This chick sure knew what she was in for, Brianna could tell, and she didn't seem to mind one bit. In fact, Sunny Smiles was excited. Maybe they really were screwed after all.

"Uh, okay, action, now." Brianna started, ideas already beginning to form in her head about how to best take action. Normally she would want nothing more than to sprint towards the nearest sunset and be gone, ready to take out the entire NCRF facility with only a carbine rifle and a frag grenade. This, however, was different. Much different. She wasn't playing the 'fearless vigilante' or 'somewhat sociopathic hero'. Other people's lives were at stake, and this wasn't a matter of going in, shooting, and sneaking out again. Strategy was needed, or at least some small form of it.

"Sunny, I need you to grab whoever you can find and tell 'em to scoot their asses into the saloon. Just... Just try to convince 'em as best you can to join in. I'm gonna try and grab some supplies, whatever I can get my hands on. Hopefully that stuffy old pothead's feelin' generous." She said, sprinting off towards the direction of the town until she couldn't resist the temptation any longer. Skidding on her heels, she glanced back at Sunny and added, "And give Trudy my love."

* * *

"My latest stock?!" Chet whined, his sharp, nasal tone doing very little good for her intensifying headache. Five minutes in the guy's pathetic excuse of a store was enough to make Brianna want to scream. Honestly, she didn't want to hear about scopes and mufflers and extended magazines. She didn't care about how bad the QSZ-92 performed compared to his newest MP-30 colt and she certainly did not give a shit about the ZM-87 coming with a half-priced silencer and duel laser splitter. And yet, since the moment she had put her foot through the door, that bullshit was all she could hear spewing from the guy's mouth. All she wanted was guns, preferably the working type with a lot of ammo that could explode someone's brain. But of course, that was too much to ask for.

"We're talking about a two thousand cap investment here," Chet continued, staying seated behind the counter so he could polish his newly painted Parabellum. He even avoid her gaze as she tried to bargain with him, instead focusing on the pistol and offering small, loving glances to it as he held it up to the light. What a freak.

Brianna leaned her head against the door, shutting her eyes and taking a long, deep breath. She felt the harsh taste of chemicals along her tongue from the excessive polish and wondered just how long Chet spend with his guns each day. The guy was creepy, and the faint green haze that tainted the air indicated that he was probably stoned too. Great.

"I'm gonna make this real simple for you, Chet. Give us the guns and we shoot the Powder Gangers. Don't give us the guns and the Powder Gangers shoot you. Make sense?" She smiled sweetly as the store owner rose from seat, carefully setting the gun on the counter before turning to look at her. He opened his mouth, ready to protest.

"Give us your fucking guns, Chet," the courier warned. "Or you'll see them blown to pieces." She folded her arms across her chest, looking at him expectantly with a single eyebrow raised in challenge. She dared him to say no, and the daggers in her eyes promised that she wouldn't be taking that as an answer.

"Fine! You can take them, fifty percent discount!"

Brianna blinked at him.

"Seventy five! Eh-eighty!"

She sighed. "Wrong answer, Chet."

He groaned, placing both hands on the counter and sighing in defeat.

That was all she needed.

* * *

She really didn't want to talk to him. He had lied right in her face and did nothing as she packed her things and got ready to leave Goodsprings. He had taken away her right to decide for herself how she would take action, and that was something that she couldn't forgive. Not easily, anyway. The old man had looked after her. He'd cut off her clothes, sewn up her head and woke her up each morning with a soulful rendition of 'Blue Moon' to lift her spirits. She could be pissed at him, but she couldn't hate him. Not when he was only trying to help her. Or help the town. She couldn't tell which one it was just yet.

Her knuckles lightly drummed on the door and she waited.

"Huh... Looks like I really can't lie worth a damn."

She doc stood in front of her before she even registered the door opening. He wore an angry frown as he looked at her, his arms folded across his chest. Hell, he sure looked pissed off. "Do I have time for an apology before you waltz out there and get blown up?"

"Doc, just-"

"Just nothing, missy." He scowled, "Now I have spent a lot of time and effort trying to fix you up and get you on your feet again, and not for the sake of my own health. I didn't pull all those bits of lead outta your brain just so you could get it blown up.

She opened her mouth to interrupt him, but he persisted with his lecture. "And this ain't just about your safety neither. You're putting all o' Goodsprings at risk. Don't you have any respect for the people of this town? For me, after all I've done?" He sighed, leaning against the door frame and closing his eyes. The old man looked exhausted.

Brianna wasn't swayed. In fact, if she'd been mad before then it was nothing compared to the anger she felt now, surging through her veins. "Then what would be the better option, doc?!" She exploded, "Handing over an innocent man just so those Powder fucks can burn this place to the ground anyway?! You know what's gonna happen, doc, and don't act as if I'm the only one to blame, because putting my life on the line is one hell of a lot better than sitting on my ass and hoping that I don't get my head blown off!"

She hasn't realised she was yelling until the silence fell, leaving the echoes of her venomous words ringing in her ears. Her heart hammered in her chest; her head pounded fiercely and yet she still stood, waiting for the doctor's answer. For a while he only looked at her with an expression that she couldn't make sense of. She saw pride and sadness in his eyes, like how a father looks at his little girl and for the first time realises that she's all grown up.

He stepped inside, holding the door open as a signal for her to join him. She did, almost regretting how she had yelled at him. She supposed she couldn't blame him for wanting to keep the town safe, even if he had been unreasonable. Fear changes people after all, and strong people can become cowering fools before it if they're not careful.

The doc hobbled off along the corridor before stopping in front of an old bookshelf that was barely holding itself together. On the top shelf was a dented footlocker, caked with years of dust and dirt. He opened it wordlessly and began rummaging inside with a disgruntled expression. Brianna watched silently as he produced a large, bulky... Heap of shit, it would seem. She wasn't sure what exactly it was other than a big heap of scrap metal with a digital screen.

"This is the least I can give you in ways of apology..." The doc mumbled, shuffling slowly towards her. "Was my wife's. It's a Pip-Boy, and I assume you know what that is?" He asked.

She nodded. The name rang a few bells alright. She hadn't recognised it at first, but she knew now what it was. An old friend of hers had one, and she never took it off. She claimed that it was given to her as a birthday present in some vault that she grew up in. Upon closer inspection she saw that it resembled a large, metal arm bracer with a bottle green coloured screen and a number of dials at the front. The screen was blank at the minute, but she figured it would turn on when equipped.

"You don't have to give me anything, doc-"

"Shush your mouth and take the damn gift," the doc said, holding the gadget out to her. "My wandering days are passed me now so it won't do me any good. And my wife sure as God can't use it. Besides, it's a pretty useful little gizmo, got all kinds of neat tricks. Gotta map, compass, clock, alarm... Even recognises whoever's wearing it. It'll scan ya, then look at yer brainwaves and insides or something like that, I dunno. Anyway, it records some information about you that you might find interestin'. Just put it on."

She let out a 'hunh' and took the thing from the doctor's hand. After giving it a little closer inspection, she slipped the thing over her wrist. Her entire arm was immediately weighed down until she could barely lift it above waist height. She felt the metal band tightening around her forearm and heard it lock with a soft 'click'. Then, the screen flashed to life, accompanied by a cheery tinkling sound as the data appeared on the screen. Impressive, she supposed, for a piece of vault-tech junk.

She held her arm up, slowly getting used to the bulky weight of the gadget. On the screen was a grinning cartoon boy, his limbs, head and torso labeled with a long green bar. Ha, they were health bars, just like those pre-war video games! At least everything was looking fine, except for her head, which was about half full.

The doc watched her with a faint smile on his face as she played with the dials, unable to suppress a grin of satisfaction as she figured out the various controls. She found that the most interesting thing was the statistics menu, which proved to be surprisingly accurate. She examined it closely, wondering just how the fuck the machine knew so much about her.

BARTER: 45

ENERGY WEAPONS: 10

EXPLOSIVES: 25

GUNS: 60

LOCKPICK: 45

MEDICINE: 45

MELEE WEAPONS: 10

REPAIR: 5

SCIENCE: 25

SPEECH: 75

SURVIVAL: 90

UNARMED: 35

The doc scratched his head. "I, uh, took the liberty of fillin' it all in from those medical forms you filled. And from everything you've told me about yourself, of course. Wasn't sure if I could give the old thing up, though, otherwise I woulda given it over sooner. Hope everything's accurate and all that."

She threw her arms around him in a sudden display of emotion. "Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. You've done way too much for me and I swear I will repay you for it some day, you mark my words, alright?"

The old man let out a light chuckle of amusement and stepped back from her. "No need, no need. Seein' you up and around is all the payment I need. Damn, you just... You look so much like my wife, you know that? Even have the same name, Anna. I guess that's why I was so hard on you. Part of the reason, at least." He smiled at her. "Now... I certainly can't shoot worth a damn, but if anyone gets blown up you just send 'em to me, alright? Good luck girlie."

* * *

The bar was buzzing with energy, and not the particularly good kind. Angered shouts were coming from most of the villagers, and poor Sunny was caught in the middle of everything, desperately trying to calm the angry crowd. Her voice was swallowed by a chorus of people yelling and cursing, obviously displeased with the choices they had: Fight and live or hide and get blown up.

Brianna slipped in silently and unnoticed. She saw that every seat in the bar was taken up by farmers and merchants, not one of them looking the slightest bit happy. "Fuck..." She muttered under her breath. They really didn't have time for this.

A gunshot exploded through the wave of sound, silencing the protests and leaving the bar deathly quiet. Brianna strode through to the centre of the room right next to Sunny, pistol in hand. "Everybody shut the fuck up!" She yelled, going straight in for the theatrics as usual. No one dared move as they watched the newcomer, predictably with wide eyes and frightened expressions. They probably thought that she was crazy. Maybe that would be a good thing.

"You all know the situation here, right?" She addressed the townspeople, about sixty of them in all. "We have an hour before Joe Cobb and the rest of his little gang march in here and burn this place to the ground. That's right people, one fucking hour. And don't play dumb and pretend like it's only dear Ringo they want. It isn't. They want this town and they intend to take it by force. You people can sit here with your thumbs up your asses for as long as you want, but this is happening, okay? Are you really gonna let this town burn because you're too afraid to stand up and fight?!"

"What the hell do you think this is? A game? A movie?" A voice called, "This, lady, is serious. People are gonna die if we turn against them! They'll blow us up!"

"People are gonna die anyway!'' Another voice returned sharply.

"Not if we hand that guy over!"

"God, you're stupid!"

Brianna waited uncomfortably as argument broke out between the locals. Many were against the idea of fighting off the Powder Gangers for a number of reasons. They complained about Ringo a lot, and Brianna herself. She certainly wasn't being made to feel very welcome at the moment, and turned to Sunny for help.

"Can we think about this rationally?" She yelled, fighting to be heard over a million different voices. "Do you really think we'll be able to get away with doing nothing? With Chet's guns and the doc's supplies we really could do this-"

"What the hell would you know?!" A voice yelled back. Sunny faltered.

"Okay, uh..." She sighed, "If you're not up for it, then go. Just leave and..." She steeled herself, taking a deep breath before continuing, "And get the fuck outta my sight. I hope you feel proud when you walk outta those doors leaving everybody else to fend for themselves. When we kick those Powder fucker's asses I hope you feel ashamed that you were too busy wiping the shit stains from your panties to defend your god damned town! We have the supplies, resources, skills... Now all we need are people with balls. I mean... It's the wasteland! If you don't get busy living..."

Brianna finished for her. "You'll get busy dying."

There was a long, awkward period of silence before a man got up. "This is fuckin' stupid," he spat, getting to his feet and deliberately brushing past Sunny's shoulder as he made his way out of the bar. "This ain't a god damn movie..."

Brianna gnawed her lip in agitation. As many as forty people rose from their seats, shoved their hands in their pockets and left from both doors without a word. "Pussies..." Brianna mumbled, eyeing the remaining townspeople. About fifteen people remained, including Trudy and Easy Pete. The others looked to be farmers or merchants, but most of them at least carried guns. Maybe they wouldn't be so hopeless after all, then. Maybe.

Brianna took advantage of the awkward situation to take a seat at the bar. She slumped over the table and rested her aching head against it, furious at the sheer amount of gutless, spineless wimps that made up the ruined town of Goodsprings. "Dammit..." She mumbled. What the hell had she gotten herself into...?

The voice to reassure her wasn't one that she expected to hear. "I... I support you..." Trudy said, "I think you're doing the right thing. We can't just stand down and let those people take our homes. You're... You're a very, uh... Brave woman..." Her voice was wobbly and strained, as it were a struggle to even form the words. She probably didn't mean a thing she said, but that didn't matter. If surly old Trudy could pull through from her anxiety, then by god she could save this little town! Well, maybe.

She jumped out of her seat, biting down the pain of her headache. Anxiously, she looked at the clock. "Twenty minutes, people!" She declared, rubbing her hands together with a mixture of excitement and nerves. "The Powder Gangers are comin' to play."

* * *

They stood boldly at the edge of town, about ten in all, wearing identical blue security armour with red splotches along the hips. Looking through her binoculars Brianna could see that those were their belts, at least five sticks of dynamite tucked into each one. On Cobb's signal, they swaggered dauntlessly along the southern road, some twirling a stick of dynamite in one hand, others wielding police batons or holding pistols by their sides. The group was led by Joe Cobb who led them to the town, his expression stony as he looked around for any sign of opposition. He found none.

The townspeople, or as many as they could gather, were positioned behind the Prospector's Saloon and a small farmhouse across from it, ensuring that they were completely out of sight. It would destroy their plan if they were caught even a second too soon. Brianna had figured that the element of surprise was the best way to proceed; at least they could take down a few Powder bastards before they could even light their dynamite. That, hopefully, would be the difference between life and death.

Brianna herself was positioned by a large assemble of rocks just by the road, equipped in brand new leather armour courtesy of Chet. With her weathered old semi-automatic by her side and a fully-loaded assault rifle at her back, she felt pretty much unstoppable. For now, at least, when no one was aiming a gun at her. She glanced at Sunny - who was situated next to her - for confirmation. The woman nodded, gnawing her lip as her hand tensed on her piece-of-crap hunting rifle. Brianna could tell that the woman was just as nervous as she was. After all, she only ever fought geckos and radscorpions. As for Brianna, well... With her injury she wasn't as confident in her own combat skills that she had so often relied on. But there was no time for doubt, not now, with the Powder Gangers so very close... Almost there...

"Now."

She leapt from behind the rock, taking only a split second to unholster the semi-automatic and unleash a spray of bullets on the unsuspecting Powder Gangers. As expected, she took them completely by surprise, taking at least three down before ducking to cover behind an old wagon on the other side of the road. Okay, so it wasn't much of a plan, but it was all she could do given the circumstances. And she wasn't dead yet, so it had to be working to some extent.

Angry roars began to emit from the dwindling group of convicts as they waved their pistols around frantically, unsure of what to do and not seeing any target to shoot. Brianna peered out from behind cover to see Joe Cobb himself unholstering his pistol, about to blow her cover and send another bullet through her brain. Shit! Where the hell was Sunny?!

The wave of fire came just in time as the other locals emerged from their hiding places, ushering the gunfight into its bloody climax. The Powder fuckers yelled as they were fired at, and Brianna saw another go down as she got up, a bullet tearing through his arm and searing the bloody flesh. Another bullet finished him off, exploding through his neck and forcing deep crimson liquid to spurt violently outwards from his mouth and ears as he tore at his neck, a desperate look in his eyes and his mouth open wide as he choked. He fell to his knees and Brianna saw no more of him, hearing only an anguished gargle before the sound was swallowed by gunshots.

She wasted no time in joining in on the action, jumping up to quickly assess the area and ignoring the angry, pulsating headache. As planned, her little army was too close in proximity for their opponent's most effective weapon; a explosion could easily end up killing people from both sides, rendering their dynamite useless. From the other side of the road, amidst a sea of blue and red, Brianna could see Sunny wrestling with her rifle. Dammit, it had jammed! She raced through the crossfire as another Powder fucker made his way towards Sunny, wearing a menacing smirk on his face. She moved quickly, grabbing the man from behind and slamming the butt of her gun into his head. She did it again. And again. And again. And the man's skull concaved further with each blow, bits of blood and what appeared to be brain matter oozing from his crushed head.

She barely had time to throw the body aside before she was grabbed and thrown to the ground with overpowering force. The woman was on top of her, taking a fistful of Brianna's hair and yanking on it roughly, drawing out an involuntary cry of pain. Her head felt like it would explode at any minute as she looked up at the crazed woman, her limbs aching and paralysed. The woman's eyes were hollow and manic as she grinned at Brianna, taking joy in her own strength as she so easily overpowered her. "You'll pay for that, bitch," she spat, pinning Brianna down with one hand as she removed a stick of dynamite from her pocket. Brianna panicked, fighting now to kick the woman off her, but to no avail. The damn bitch was too strong; she dug the stick of dynamite into the left side of Brianna's head, causing her to scream loudly as blinding pain overtook her, disabling her senses just long enough for the Powder Ganger above her to remove a lighter from her pocket.

"OwwwwwAoooooow!" Brianna cried, tears welling up in her eyes. The pain was excruciating and she had no way to stop it. She heard a soft 'click' as the flame was ignited, and opened her eyes just long enough to see the dynamite being lit. Such a short fuse...

"No!" She screamed, "Gah! Fuck!"

It happened in an instant. The weight was lifted from her body at once, though the grinning face of the insane woman was still etched in her mind. She couldn't stand; her limbs were aching and the searing pain in her head prevented her from even trying to move. She could only watch as Sunny Smiles tore the stick of dynamite from the woman's hand and kicked her down to the ground. Sunny turned to throw the dynamite away, to ensure that no one would be hurt by it, not even the Powder fucker who had lit it. But dammit... Brianna wished she could tell her that she was too fucking late.

The thing had just left her hand before it went off. A deafening blast that knocked the small woman backwards. A blinding light. Ringing ears. "No... Sunny..."

She had to get up. Her friend couldn't be dead, no way. She was deaf to the sound of gunfire as she forced her limbs to cooperate. She crawled towards the sound of agonised screaming to see Sunny lying on her back, her face bloody. Sunny clutched her hand tightly, screaming in both terror and pain as she writhed around, her eyes squeezed shut. "Aaaaowwwww! Aaaowaaaow!" She let out a brutal, ugly sob, not letting go of her hand. Brianna scrambled to her feet, kneeling at the woman's side.

"Sunny, show me your hand," she said frantically, unable to hide the panic in her voice. "Show me your god damn hand, Sunny." Nothing. Just screaming. "SUNNY! Show me your fucking hand!" She grabbed the girl's right hand and tore it away, hearing her screams get louder as her grip was broken. Brianna's stomach heaved at the sight of what Sunny had been so desperately holding on to. A busted hand, gushing with blood, only half a finger still intact. So much blood, staining Sunny's armour and splattering her face.

"Oh my god... Ohmygodohmygodnonono..." She was paralysed. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the grotesque, bleeding extremity. Dammit, she had to do something!

Her knife was holstered at her left thigh. She took it. Cut a long strip of leather from the leg of her armour. Turned to her screaming friend. One long, deep breath. She grabbed the woman's wrist and brought it close to her. With one quick, strong movement she sliced it off, forcing herself to ignore Sunny's terrified screams as she wrapped the bleeding stump in leather. She took the elastic from Sunny's hair and used it effectively, tying the leather around the stump of her arm to ensure that it wouldn't bleed heavily. Using all of her strength, she dragged the woman as quickly as she could towards a nearby pile of rocks, and laid her down behind it. "Sunny, I am so so sorry, okay?" She whispered, seeing that her friend was now silent and barely conscious. Her face had been drained of all its color, leaving her looking much too like a corpse.

She got to her feet, unholstering her pistol and leaving Sunny Smiles behind in the dirt. About three Powder Gangers remained, including Joe Cobb himself. She saw Ringo fighting off one with a knife and quickly took her aim. Fired. The man was caught in back of the neck, and explosion if blood splattering over the caravaneer. Ringo caught her eye and nodded his thanks before quickly turning towards another Powder fuck, skewering him in the neck and saving a group of farmers from a bloody fate. Only Joe Cobb remained, visibly terrified as the townspeople, including Brianna, formed a circle around him, each one knowing who this kill belonged to.

Frantically, Cobb aimed his gun at the nearest villager and fired. A barely audible dry 'click' sounded, and Ringo smirked as he pushed through the widening circle and faced the ringleader. Pretty boy Ringo Hendricks wore a smug expression as he aimed his pistol and shot Joe Cobb right in the groin. He went down immediately, screaming in agony. His hands desperately reached for his now non-existent manhood, blood spurting over his hands and causing him to scream even louder. Brianna half-expected Ringo to the put the screaming man out of his misery, but he did nothing put spit in his face and kick him in the groin before turning to leave him in his agony.

Brianna watched for a few moments as the circle of townspeople yelled in victory, gathering together to kick the absolute shit out of the wailing Joe Cobb. It was only when he fell silent that Sunny crossed her mind. Cursing sharply under her breath, she sprinted across the length of the road to catch up with Ringo, who jumped in surprise when she gripped his shoulder tightly.

"Oh, it's you. Look, I'm sorry you had to-"

"Please, you have to help my friend." She pleaded, worn and exhausted, with a dizzying headache. Whatever tired, desperate expression she wore must have convinced Ringo immediately. He nodded to her and signalled for her to lead the way. She didn't hesitate. Maybe there would still be time.

"Don't get busy livin' and you'll get busy dyin'..."


	6. No Place for Compassion

**Goodsprings**

** July 18**

** 18:41**

The rest of the day was spent grocery shopping.

Well, in a sense, anyway. The doc had shooed them both out of the house while he worked on Sunny, though Brianna wasn't sure what exactly he could do to help. After all, the woman didn't have her right hand anymore, and Brianna seriously doubted that the doc could sew it back on. He would really only be able to put a bandage on it and pray that her stump didn't get infected and kill her. Brianna didn't really want to think about that, and for good reason. Even now, she wasn't sure why she had done it - sliced the hand off, that was. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing and, well... Okay, she had seen it happen in a movie once and it looked like the right thing to do. That, and she was too busy dodging bullets to effectively stick Sunny's fingers back on. But they were both alive, and that was all that counted in the end.

After she'd had her bandage replaced, been checked over for injuries and popped a few painkillers, Ringo had felt obligated to do something about the mess outside. Having a dozen dead bodies piled up on the road was a good way to avoid unwanted company, of course, but a not the best way to keep the local trade circulating and the travellers floating in and out. That and the corpses were starting to smell. A lot.

Brianna had jumped at the opportunity to assist the acrimonious pretty boy in dumping all of the remains into a recommended ditch nearby. One mans' stinking heap of bodies is another mans' treasure after all, and it certainly looked like a treasure trove out there, promising all kinds of toys. A rather morbid flea market, she supposed. Still, no shame in stealing from bodies. Damn Powder fucks would need a lot more than dynamite wherever they were now, certainly.

"You look like a little kid on Christmas morning, miss Brianna," Ringo commented, eyeing the corpses with predictable disgust. "But I suppose you should take whatever you can get; it's a hard place out where you're goin'..." He muttered, his lips disappearing into a thin line as his eyes found the bloody crotch of Joe Cobb, the great Powder Ganger himself lying hunched on the ground, his eyes wide open and unseeing.

"Trust me, I realised that a _long_ time ago..." She mumbled in response, tossing an empty old pistol over her shoulder, the thing just skimming past Ringo's head. Whoops. "I've been to all kinds of places and... Seen some pretty interesting things."

She frowned, eyeing the bodies with annoyed accusation, as if they were responsible for not having any rounds for her pistol. So far she had come up with a couple of frag grenades, a few 9mm magazines, a revolver, and more dynamite than she desired to count. Most of the loot would be useless to her; she didn't care to give up her own pistol and although she knew how to light and throw a stick of dynamite, she usually stuck to much closer combat. Still, it would be a shame to see anything go to waste, and she was sure to come across a trading caravan in her travels, granted that she didn't drop dead of exhaustion very shortly.

Dumping her newly uncovered treasures into her bag, she glanced at Ringo, who remained standing, unwilling to lay a precious, golden finger on a nasty, dirty corpse. "Dead bodies can't hurt you, pretty boy." Brianna smirked, brushing the sand from her knees and throwing the back over her shoulder. It fit comfortably, despite it being filled to the brim with explosives. "Don't wanna get dirty, is that it?"

Ringo didn't bother to glance at her, his gaze fixated on the lifeless body of Joe Cobb. "I helped to kill most of these people, miss Brianna. They might not have been very good folk, but each human life is extremely important-"

"Cut the crap, would you?" She snapped, "And don't you dare go acting all holier-than-thou on me., because your morals don't mean shit out there." She gazed out into the vast expanse of the Mojave wasteland that stretched out before them, miles and miles worth of mountains, rock, and bloodshed. "Someone tries to kill you, you kill them first and don't whine like a baby about it. That's just the way things are."

"You think I don't know that?" Ringo spat, though his tone was more sad than angry. "How do you think I ended up here, scared for my life and shitting myself over the slightest noise? I'm smart enough to know that life isn't easy, but that doesn't mean I'm not allowed to grieve. Don't you have any compassion?"

Huh. He sure got her with that one. She let the bag slide down from her shoulder and moved towards the pile of bodies. "I just, uh..." She faltered. What could possibly be her excuse for being a heartless bitch, anyway? "I guess I've, uh... Spent so much time out there that I've forgotten how to feel. Too busy focused on survival and killing to be concerned with my own emotions. Guess I've just... Lost all of my compassion, like you've so graciously implied."

Ringo let out a low, humourless chuckle. "Anyone who saw you out here earlier would think otherwise. You had no reason to help me out, and that's just what you did. You even risked your life for Sunny Smiles, and don't you try to tell me that was payment."

"Alright, alright..." She mumbled, obviously unwilling to carry the conversation further. "Wasteland tough girl has a heart. And now..." She bent over, taking one of the bodies over her shoulder with a loud grunt of exertion. "Pretty boy Ringo's gonna help me take out the trash." She beamed.

Ringo blew out a sigh. "Yippee..."

* * *

They left the bodies to burn in the ditch, just a ways west of the town. For Brianna the act had been satisfying, especially when she had found the woman responsible for Sunny's injury, the ghost of her last insane grin still etched upon her cold, bloodless lips. Ah well, served her right for being a psycho bitch. That had been Brianna's frame of mind, anyway, when she had chucked the bloody corpse into the ditch with all the others. She wondered how the woman had died. Probably on impact from the explosion that had cost Sunny her hand Oh, the irony.

It was dark when they returned to Goodsprings, the moon peering out from behind Graveyard Hill and spilling its silver glow over the sleepy town. Brianna attempted to lighten the solemn mood with conversation, asking politely about Ringo's caravan and wares, though in truth she didn't particularly care. Turned out he had been trading for the NCR with his girlfriend and brother, both of which had died during the attack. He spoke about them fondly and often on the journey back, and matched Brianna's interest with his own, asking curiously about her home life and where she had come from. She answered simply as always, forever unwilling to talk about her own past. She merely replied, "I walk roads. Deliver packages. Shoot bad guys."

He walked her back to doctor's practice ("It's the least I can do for a beautiful lady"), and thanked her one last time before trekking off to the saloon, no doubt to wash away his grief with some stiff drink. Brianna didn't bother knocking as she slipped inside, quietly pushing the door shut and walking down the hall until she found the doctor's office. From the large gap in the wood she could see the faint outline of a woman's body lying on what had been Brianna's own bed for a time. The steady rising and falling of Sunny's chest gave Brianna some hope that she had done the right thing after all. Hey, at least her friend was alive.

Friend...? That was funny. She'd never actually considered the fact that Sunny might be her friend, instead she'd just sort of... Accepted it. Their argument, their little speech together... Everything just seemed to add up to one big, blossoming friendship. She supposed she was alright with that, assuming that Sunny wouldn't hold a grudge against her for chopping off one of her most important external body parts. Oh well, Brianna thought, people have two hands for a reason.

"Didn't expect to see you back so soon..." The familiar gruff voice of doc Mitchell made Brianna jump in alarm. She turned, seeing the doc leaning against the opposite wall, his arms folded. He wore a particularly sour expression and Brianna wasn't sure if she wanted to know the reason why. "Finished cleaning up the bloodbath outside?"

She frowned, so far unsure of the doctor's current feelings towards her. She merely nodded her head in confirmation and allowed the old man to continue on, expecting either a long, angry speech or a heartfelt apology for being so darn cranky at her.

"What was I thinking...?" He mumbled, more to himself than anyone else, "I should never have allowed her. Should never have trusted you in the first place... Now just look at what's happened..."

"I'm gonna stop you right there, old man." Brianna leaned against the door behind her, feeling her headache growing stronger. "You knew what could happen, alright, you knew that people would get hurt. Don't you try to blame this on me just because-"

"Just because Sunny'll never hold her own rifle again? Never be able to defend the town just like she's always loved? Go on ahead, make some bullshit excuse for that, would ya?"

She glared at the old man, already tired of him constantly throwing the blame on her. One minute he would do anything to protect her and the next he was blaming her for everything but nuclear holocaust! It wasn't right and she wouldn't stand for it. "What Sunny did, she did it on her own initiative. I didn't ask her to save my life, but I guess that's just the kind of person she is. She knew what she was getting into from the start, so don't you dare try to put this on me!"

The doc slumped his shoulders in defeat, looking at her apologetically. "I guess I'm sorry..." He mumbled, "Always felt the need to stick the blame on someone, seems only right. Never woulda let myself believe that the universe just allowed all this to happen; had to be someone's fault. Guess that's why I'm such a bitter old curmudgeon." He chuckled, his tone flat and devoid of any humour. "You should go ahead and see Sunny. Sorry for riling ya up like that."

She nodded, allowing herself into the doctor's practice and gently closing the door behind her. She could hear the doc's footsteps slowly fading as he hobbled off, probably back into bed. She wondered silently just how long it had taken the old man to try and console a broken Sunny Smiles.

She glanced at the bed across the room, wondering if it would be right to wake Sunny from her sleep. She doubted that the woman would even want to see her at all. Brianna breathed a light sigh, ready to leave for the saloon before the silence was broken by a barely stifled sob. She took a few steps, the wracked sobs becoming more audible as she grew closer. The room was illuminated only by the moonlight spilling in from the shutters, giving her just enough light to finally see the injured, crying woman.

She was lying curled up, with her back to Brianna, but she could still see the movements of her shoulders as Sunny cried into a small, yellow blanket. Her blonde waves were loose and spilling over a lightly blood spattered pillow. It looked like she was still wearing the same leather armour, but the chest plate and bracers had been discarded on the floor.

Brianna pressed her lips tightly together as she made her way across the room. "Hey, Sunny..." She whispered, the concern easily notable in her tone. She crouched down by the woman's bedside and stroked Sunny's hair lightly, hoping to offer a small form of comfort.

Sunny made a small noise of acknowledgement and slowly brought herself up to a sitting position. Although she averted her eyes from Brianna's, the courier could see that they were swollen and bloodshot, and her cheeks were red and stained with fresh tears. She cradled her now properly bandaged stump in her other hand. Her face was marked with various cuts and burn marks from the Powder Ganger fight. Damn... She looked like hell.

"Uh, hey..." Brianna managed a small, reassuring smile that, predictably, was not returned. "Uh... How you, uh, feeling...?"

She shrugged, hunching her shoulders and hugging her knees tightly. Her silence unnerved Brianna; it certainly wasn't like Sunny Smiles to keep her mouth shut for long. The woman pressed her chin between her knees. Her teary eyes shone in the faint cracks moonlight. She looked both lost and terrified, holding a striking resemblance to a young child lost in the middle of nowhere.

"Hey, uh... At least we didn't get blown up." She managed a small half-smile. "You saved my life, right?"

"Yeah..." She mumbled, her voice cracking slightly when she spoke. "Why's you do it...? Why'd you... Cuh..."

"Cut it off? It was gonna get infected, and there was no way we could sew up all your fingers after they'd been trampled on by a bunch of Powder Gangers," Brianna replied bluntly, seeing no point in sugarcoating her words. "It was just the first thing I thought of, I guess."

Sunny nodded before lying herself down again, turning her head away from Brianna. She drew her blanket close to her face to stifle the sobbing noises and pained gasps. Brianna stood up, ready to take her leave with the heart-wrenching feeling that the gunfight had broken the resilient Sunny Smiles.

**Goodsprings**

** July 19**

** 10:30**

She stood in front of the mirror with a tense expression, running one hand along the angle of her jawline. The bruises along her jaw were fading, though that did very little to help her appearance. Her hair was matted in places, sticking up wildly at all angles, and though she could fully open her left eye, it was still rimmed with dark splotches of red and purple. The only thing left to look at was her bandage, now turning grey from age and dirt. It concealed most of her eye, as well as the scarring underneath. The doc had promised that it wouldn't be noticeable, but she was smart enough to expect otherwise. A bullet had torn apart her skull, dammit! Whatever was under there would be a big, ugly, disfigured mess, she was certain.

"Here goes nothing..." She took a deep breath and slowly unwrapped the bandage, wincing as it pulled away the clotted blood and grime that had been clinging to her for so long. The wound was still incredibly painful, and more than once she had to stifle pained gasps as sharp lances of pain shot through her. Once the bandage was completely removed she let the disgusting thing fall at her feet and slowly raised her eyes to the mirror, dreading what she might find staring back at her.

Her stomach lurched violently when she saw it. Although she was already prepared for the worst, she couldn't help but reflexively suck in air, shocked by the devastation. The hideous, bloody ruin of what had been the left side of her head. A long, jagged scar shone white where the doctor had stitched her up, but that wasn't nearly the worst part. Surrounding the scar itself was a big, dark patch of scar tissue, a few shades darker than her own lightly tanned skin. The hair surroundings it had been hastily cut away, hiding not an inch of the monstrous scarring. Brianna gripped the edges of the sink tightly as she took in her reflection. "Dammit..." She muttered, lightly tracing the scar tissue and flinching at the rough feeling. She was a freak. An ugly, deformed freak.

A knock on the bathroom door brought her back to her senses. She heard the doc's voice from the other side, urging for her to hurry up and asking if she was okay. She wasn't, and she didn't want to come out any time soon. She was used to being beautiful and cocky and, well, a little slutty when the occasion called for it (and it often did). She hadn't expected things to change so drastically, and now she had a mass of ugly scar tissue that drew the attention from every other attractive feature that she had.

She left the bathroom with tears streaming down her face. Honestly, she was surprised at how badly she'd reacted to seeing what remained of her night on the hill. She knew it was selfish - she still had both of her hands and of course, she was still alive. That was all that mattered, right? Still, it did break her heart to see herself this way, looking so damaged. She supposed that's just what happens when you've been shot in the head. And hey, looking grotesque is one hell of a lot better than looking dead, right?

Brianna shut the door behind her and leaned against it, hastily wiping her tears with the sleeve of her metal armour (brand-spanking new and courtesy of mister Hendricks himself). The doc hobbled in after she had dried the tear stains from her cheeks, looking at her with a grim expression. No, not at her. At the angry ruin that was the left portion of her skull.

"Ouch..." He said, obviously struggling to find words of consolation.

"Yep... Guy's got shitty aim but he sure got me good..."

The doc nodded, scratching the back of his head nervously as he made his way over. "It, uh... Isn't as bad as it looks," he offered, the look on his face stating blatantly otherwise. In a hasty attempt to change the subject he added, "So what do you plan on doing with your hair? Gonna keep it that length, or...?"

"I'm gonna wash it, presumably, and get it looking halfway decent. No way in hell am I cutting it off," she stated, brushing a long, matted strand of hair over her shoulder. Sure, she might look hideous with her ugly scar, but cutting her hair couldn't possibly make a difference. If anything, cutting up would make it even more noticeable. So a hairless stripe it was, then.

"And scars add character, right?"

* * *

"Food... Assault rifle... Oooo, it has a scope! Uh, okay... First aid... Frag grenades... Ammo... Ammo... More ammo..." She mumbled, gathering everything in a huge pile and dumping it all on the counter. Chet's face grew a shade whiter with everything she decided to 'purchase'. Of course, when he had told her 'Y-you can, uh, have everything half-priced. It's the, uh... Least I can do', Brianna heard only the words 'Take it for free'. Pshh, the guy owed her anyway.

"Thanks so much for helping me out," she smiled sweetly, hoisting the rifle over her shoulder and looping the frag grenades safely on her belt. The rest of her brand new goodies went in her bag, including some food packets which she had taken from Chet's own fridge. Okay, maybe she was bullying the poor guy, but he was a miserly old bastard that deserved all he got. Or at least, that's what she told herself to justify her actions. But then again, bullying a cheapskate sounded a lot better than winding up dead two miles out of town.

She flashed a smile for the surly shopkeep before leaving triumphantly with a bag full of goodies. This was the time, she supposed, to think about finally leaving Goodsprings. She wasn't sure where she would go just yet, but she supposed that Primm would be a good place to start. A little extra information on her delivery job might shine some light on why she could shot in the head.

"Hey, sweetie." A familiar voice called. Brianna turned, surprised to see Sunny Smiles smiling sheepishly and waving at her with her one good hand. The other arm was bandaged up and hanging at her side. To Brianna's relief, the woman looked much better than she had the previous night. Her hair had been brushed until it shone and fell in waves over her shoulders. Rather than wearing her usual leather armour, she had on only a white tank top and a pair of tight shorts. Brianna envied the outfit - god only knew where she'd found actual denim - but the jealousy soon faded when she realised that Sunny was only wearing it for one reason. She didn't need her armour anymore, because she could no longer protect Goodsprings.

"Huh, fancy seeing you around here," Brianna said with a grin. "How're you feeling?"

"Better," she replied, the usual cheeriness in her voice returning, enough proof to convince Brianna that she was being honest, though her eyes were still swollen from a long night of sobbing. "But certainly not as bad as you." She eyed Brianna's assault rifle with surprise. "Looks like you've been robbing Chet blind. Can't say I blame you, though; he's one uptight old bastard." She said with a smirk.

"You make a fair point," Brianna smiled, folding her arms and eyeing the southern road. She gnawed her lip anxiously, feeling a surge excitement and nerves building up in her chest, giving her heart the strength to beat faster. It would be time to go soon, and though she would miss the little town of Goodsprings, she knew she couldn't sit around here forever. She needed answers.

Without thinking, she dropped her bag and wrapped her arms around the shorter woman beside her, who released a small 'yelp' of surprise before hugging back just as tightly. "I'm sorry about what happened to you, I really am," she swore, surprised at the whole outpouring of emotion. "But I don't regret what I did. We showed those Powder fucks, right?"

"We sure did. And I would jump at the chance to do it all again." Sunny replied, her grin even audible in her voice as she spoke. After a moment, though, she huffed out a sigh. "Guess that ain't gonna happen, though, right?"

Brianna's mouth formed a 'no' before she even knew what she was saying. Dammit, what a way to screw up the perfect moment. Wonderful. She pulled away from the hug before Sunny could, and looked at her with utmost sincerity. No way was she letting Sunny Smiles rot in Goodsprings. Maybe she would be a liability, but if anything, she could prove that the woman wasn't useless and give her the opportunity for a better life. Getting shot in the head had screwed her up even worse than she'd thought, it would seem. In a world empty of compassion, a whole load of it was being shown from her.

"Come with me."

Sunny blinked and returned the idea with a puzzled expression. "Come again?"

"C'mon, we'll show the world more chaos than it's ever seen before," she promised, "Besides, these people took down a whole gang of convicts on their own. I think they can defend themselves against geckos and scorps. Come with me."

She hesitated. "I... I don't know. I'll be a burden..."

"Oh come on!" She insisted, "You don't really wanna rot in this town. Trust me, if you turn out to be a liability I promise to leave out in the wasteland to rot. What have you got to lose?"

There was a period of heavy silence.

"I'm in."

* * *

Her farewell party was gathered at the edge of town, not even a bad turnout in Brianna's opinion. Along with Sunny, Cheyenne and doc Mitchell she saw Ringo, Easy Pete, a few locals that she recognised from the bar, and - to Brianna's amazement - Trudy. They all smiled at her sadly, even some of her new drinking buddies looked sad to see her go. The doc, of course, was the first to approach her.

"My, my, girl... I cannot explain how proud I feel, both of you and my stitchin' skills. I never thought I'd see you openin' your eyes never mind helpin' to take down a whole squad if Powder Gangers. I gotta admit, it's been a damn great pleasure to meet you, Brianna. I'll be sad to see you go." Tears brimmed in his eyes as he pulled her in for a hug. Despite the hell she must have put him through, Brianna had never heard such sincerity from a man in her life.

She smiled at him, surprised at the tears welling in her own eyes. With everything she had gone through, she was just so damn happy to be alive that she forgot her mask and allowed the emotions to pour out. "God, j can't thank you enough, doc. I really, really can't. Without you I'd be buried in a shallow grave and I'd never have met such a remarkable old man."

He nodded at her and retreated a few steps to allow others their goodbyes. It was Ringo who approached her next, hardly turning on the waterworks but still looking sad to say goodbye. He held out his hand to her and gave her a small nod, unsurprisingly without a speech to give. Well that sure wasn't good enough. Brianna pulled him into a tight hug before he could react to her outstretched arms. "Stuffy old bastard..." She mumbled, happy to feel him actually hugging her back. It would seem that the pretty boy had feelings after all. That or he wanted to feel her tits, but that wasn't something she would bring up.

"Thanks for all the help you offered, miss Brianna," he said, pulling away from the hug after a few moments. "You're a god damned angel. Don't you get hurt out there, alright?"

She nodded and replied with a mere, "You too." And that was that.

She didn't expect a goodbye from Trudy, nor did she receive one. Things were settled with them both, though, or at least that's how it felt. After a hug from Easy Pete and a few words of thanks, she allowed the tears to fall. They had been held in long enough, anyway.

Sunny moved to comfort her with a reassuring squeeze. "Chin up, sweetie. You're not getting rid of me for a long, long time," she beamed.

The doc looked at them both in surprise, but didn't raise a question. In fact, the old man looked almost reassured. Sunny Smiles was in good hands.

"C'mon, I think we've cost these folks enough trouble." Brianna said, "Ready to go?"

"Yeah... I'm ready." Sunny smiled in confirmation, "C'mon Cheyenne!"

Brianna took a deep breath and together they took their first step out into the wild, wild west. She glanced behind her shoulder a few times to see her new friends growing smaller and smaller behind her, until there was nothing in sight but graveyard hill, looming high above them and serving as a painful reminder of how she had almost lost her life.

Brianna took one last look, then turned around, ahead on her way.


	7. Just Like Old Times

**Somewhere outside Goodsprings**

** July 19**

** 11: 30**

If felt good to be back on the road again, especially with two new friends to share it with (Cheyenne included, of course). Sunny was noticeably more confident now that she had joined Brianna, and she'd made good use of her pistol when they'd been confronted by a couple of wild dogs just a half mile out of town. The pair were usually talkative, silence only falling after Brianna had pressed Sunny with another question about where she had come from. The girl was sure iffy about her past. Of course, it wasn't quiet for long.

"The boys are the weediest; the girls are the prettiest~"

"Sunny, you have three seconds to shut the fuck up, or I will smack you the fuck up."

"WaaaAAAAAaaaaaay BaaAAAAAaaaack HoooOOOOme~!"

Brianna groaned, raising her arm to switch the radio off on her Pip-Boy, but to no avail. Sunny had already succeeded in drowning out the recorded chorus of 'Way Back Home' that was blaring from the Pip-Boys' speakers. Huffing out a sigh, she crossed her arms and looked at Sunny pointedly, with an eyebrow lifted in question. She earned only a pleased grin from the chirpy blonde, who sucked in a deep breath, ready to belt another earsplitting chorus.

"Woah, woah, woah!" Brianna said hastily, watching the woman deflate as she paused to listen. "Okay, I'll turn on the radio again if you promise not to open your damn mouth for the rest of this trip. We're in the wild, wild wasteland, remember? Raiders can still hear us, and we aren't very well protected by your impenetrable wall of cheeriness."

Sunny shrugged. "Okay, I guess you make a good point."

"As usual..." Brianna muttered below her breath as she fiddled with the dials, finding the Mojave radio station. To her relief, it was the infamous Mr New Vegas talking to them through the speakers, rather than more damned fifties music that always got stuck in her head. Sunny hushed and they continued to walk together, enjoying the smooth voice of the radio host and not paying mind to anything in particular that he had to say. Until she heard her name, that was.

"Hellooooo, my beautiful friends in the wasteland, this is Mr New Vegas to give you your daily dose of something truly amazing," the radio voice promised, sounding lively enough for someone stuck in a recording station, hoping that there were still people out there to listen to him. "We've heard some interesting reports of the most beautiful courier you've ever seen, miss Brianna O'Reilly herself. That's right folks, this feisty gal is _still_ kicking! According to some reliable sources, this courier just woke up in Goodsprings after being shot in the head up at Graveyard Hill. That's right folks, right in the brain! Now I know you good wastelanders out there ain't too bright, but we_ all_ know that people don't tend to survive after..."

He continued to go on, providing funny commentary that made them both chuckle as he made speculations about Brianna's current disposition ("Is she a ghost now? A robot? Or did she really rise from her grave slaughter all of the good people in Goodsprings whilst wearing a chainmail bikini? We just don't know! Keep an eye out, folks! If you don't value your life, that is.").

Sunny looked at the courier expectantly, waiting for an explanation as to why she seemed to be widely renowned across the Mojave desert. Brianna replied with a shrug, "I've done a lot of things, been a lot of people. Vigilante, caravaneer, mercenary, whore..." She got a questioning look with that one. "Not my greatest hour. And now I'm a courier, obviously. People get to know you after a while, I guess. And a chick returning from the dead is pretty big news. Besides, it's not like anything else actually happens out here."

"A lot of things happen that we don't hear about, sweetie. It's hard to get information when you're holed up in an old recording studio, right? And neither of us have been anywhere in a while, so who knows what's going on around here?"

"Point," she agreed. "So... You've spent a lot of time in Goodsprings, right?" She asked, trying to inconspicuously discover just how much she could ask before Sunny grew uncomfortable. She knew that the woman probably had a reason for being secretive (don't we all?) but if they were going to travel together, there had to be some level of trust. Sunny seemed like a great person and all, but Brianna had justifiable reasons to be paranoid. A lot of them, actually. Bad things seemed to happen to her a lot, mainly caused by badly misplaced trust.

"Sure did, sweetie. Been here for about, uh... Four years, I think. I was a relative newcomer, but people accepted me pretty quickly, since the town itself is pretty new. Even Trudy fell for my irresistible charm and could looks. Who couldn't~?" She smiled, scratching her mutt behind the ears as Cheyenne padded along happily at the heels of her master.

Brianna nodded and replied with a distracted 'mmm' of agreement. She wondered if Sunny was trying to change the subject to Trudy, rather than herself. Not this time, Sunny. "So, what made you decide to settle in?" She asked. That seemed like a fair question; there would be no reason for her to avoid something so simple.

Sunny groaned lightly and stopped in her tracks to confront the courier. "Would you just give it a break?! Where I come from is my business; it's in the past now and it doesn't deserve another thought so I would very much appreciate it if you would mind your own damned business!"

"How do you expect me to trust you if I don't know the slightest thing about you?!" Brianna yelled, taking a step closer to Sunny, ready for their second shouting match of the past few days.

She raised her bandaged right arm in reply. "See this? This is what your life cost me. That's right, I saved your life, Brianna! And I risked my own for you, outta the goodness of my own damned heart! Maybe the doc was right; maybe I am too trusting for my own good. But I put my trust in you without knowing the slightest thing about you, just because I thought you were a good person. So just leave me alone, alright? This trip's supposed to be fun! I don't wanna fight, okay?"

Wait... What?! Now it was Brianna's turn to be pissed off. The only reason they were on this trip was because she's been shot in the head and was currently on a wild goose chase for answers that she may never get to hear! In what way could it possibly be fun?! Sure, they could enjoy themselves and act like idiots, but at the end of the day, things were the way they were. And they weren't fun.

Brianna was quick to vocalise her opinion, moving closer to the shorter woman until Sunny's face was mere inches from her own. She heard Cheyenne growling in the background. "So how about you start thinking before you speak and don't make me regret taking you along. I have business to take care of, and I really don't have time for this overdramatic bullshit. Forget that I asked any questions, alright? It was none of my business anyway."

Sunny nodded, stepping away and beginning to walk again, leaving Brianna behind to catch up. She hoisted her bag over one shoulder before silencing the radio and taking in her surroundings. Neither of them expected to reach Primm before nightfall, so predictably the town was nowhere to be seen from where they were. Instead she saw only the emptiness of the vast Mojave desert, the NCR statues shaking hands far off into the distance. Up ahead she could see a small, boarded up shack.

"Jean's Skydiving," Sunny pointed out bluntly, and she seemed to be right. Brianna noticed the twisted metal of an aeroplane rusting into the dirt. The place looked deserted at first glance, but as they grew closer Brianna could see faint indentations in the sand, and a faint billow of smoke trailing upwards from behind the building. Sunny frowned was her dog uttered a low, guttural growl. "Powder Gangers, maybe?"

Brianna nodded slowly, her right hand tensing on the butt of her gun. Most travellers would have taken the I-15 from Goodsprings or continued onwards to Primm. And who the hell needed a campfire during early morning? They were in a god damned desert and the heat was blistering despite the sun not even having reached its full height.

"Something ain't right..." Brianna muttered, unholstering her pistol and edging closed to the building until the two were right outside. She peered behind it for the sake of being cautious before slipping in behind the hut and aiming her pistol, seeing Sunny do the same on the opposite side.

They didn't find Powder Gangers, nor did they find travelling merchants. Instead the barrel of Brianna's gun found the bodies of what appeared to be two junkies, unmoving, with needles stick stuck in their veins. The only living woman in this merry band was hunched over and rocking slowly back and forward beside the dying campfire, either indifferent to the death of her present company or too shot up to care.

Sunny shot her a confused look, silently asking how they should proceed. Brianna shrugged, holstering her pistol and eyeing the makeshift campground. A small pile of various chems were littered on the ground, hardly sterile, but no one in the wastes would care as long as she was selling them for a good price. To her left she found an empty first aid bag which she dumped the needles into, careful not to stick herself. That would make for an interesting story.

"We done here?" She asked, seeing Sunny eyeing the junkie warily as she gathered up the remaining chems and alcohol littered at her feet. She nodded to Brianna and began dumping her own loot into her empty bag. Silently agreeing that there was no hope for the trembling junkie, they left her behind and returned to the road with heavier bags, neither of them speaking a word until Jean's Skydiving was long out of sight.

* * *

"That's NCRCF over there, see?" Sunny stretched on her tiptoes, pointing out the obvious prison camp less than half a mile east, just ahead of the hill they were crouching on. "That place'll be crawling with Powder Gangers and I don't fancy our chances against them. Even though we did kick their butts the first time," she added with a smirk, raising her binoculars to her eyes and silently scanning the area. "We've got two Powder fucks situated on each one of the lookout towers, and there are tons more inside. The outer area looks like it was used for forced heavy labour. I see bodies filling up a dumpster. They look like NCR to me. Those poor people..."

Brianna crouched behind a rock, peering out from behind it and letting Sunny be her eyes. With a sniper rifle she could probably take out one or two of the lookout squad, but not any more than that. She made for a decent sniper, but only when she wasn't being shot at. She didn't trust herself with a moving crowd, let alone a moving crowd with dynamite. Plus, the pain in her head was killing her, but she had managed to bite the pain for this long. Maybe she could hold out a little while longer.

"You wanna take 'em out?" She asked, glancing at the woman who stood above her. "They've got goodies in there, and we need all we can get if we wanna keep our water supply steady." She took a deep swig from her canteen, the water tasting warm and stale as it slid down her throat. They only had two bottles left between them, which amounted to practically nothing when you had to live through the Mojave's nuclear summers. "We'll run out of ammo eventually too, and dynamite fetches a pretty good price on the market if you sell it to the right people."

"I don't know if we can risk it..." Sunny muttered, lowering her binoculars and turning her head to Brianna, "And I thought you said we were in a hurry?"

"If we don't stock up on supplies we'll be hurrying to our graves." Brianna said, letting the strap of her rifle slide down her shoulder. She loaded it and peered through the scope, trying to see for herself what Sunny had described. Right enough, there were two Powder Gangers looking out from each tower, though none would spot them from here. None of them appeared to be equipped with a sniper rifle, or any form of scope for that matter and she doubted that any of them could actually hit her if she was caught.

"Time to take a gamble..." She mumbled, abandoning any rational plan that had might have formed in her mind. She took a deep breath and lined up the shot, just above the first Powder Gangers' head. Biting the splitting pain of her headache, she tensed her finger on the trigger and gently applied pressure, gritting her teeth as the gun's recoil slammed into her shoulder. The shot went wide. Fuck. Precipitating curses under her breath, Brianna could only watch through the scope of her rifle as the startled Powder fucks drew their weapons, searching frantically for the sniper. Well that plan had gone out the window.

She heard Sunny swear loudly. "Shoot! What are you waiting for?"

She couldn't. Her finger was frozen on the trigger, but she was unable to apply the slightest amount of pressure. She looked through her scope and saw him smirking at her, his pistol aimed right between her eyes. His own venomous green optics glinted in the silver moonlight. There was a bang as Benny fired at her.

"Crap, they're shooting at us!" Sunny's voice was panicked and shrill, dragging Brianna'a little ass straight back into reality. "What the hell are you doing?! Shoot the damned gun!"

Shit! What the hell was she doing?! Without thinking, she lined up her shot and quickly jerked her finger on the trigger. The recoil was strong, but she barely felt it slamming into her chest. There was no time for thought. After the first Powder fucks' head was blown apart, she moved to the next watchman. Her shot nearly went wide, but she managed to catch him in the arm. He would bleed out before long.

"I can't take them all down with a pistol!" Sunny yelled, "What the hell are we doing?!"

"Good question..." Brianna replied, lining up her shot once more on the Powder Ganger situated atop the other watchtower. She pulled the trigger and the bullet whizzed towards the unsuspecting convict, exploding into his chest and throwing him back. His partner barely had time to react before a bullet tore away his face.

"Good shooting, sweetie; that's all the watchmen!" Sunny called, fighting to be heard over the sound of gunfire. "And the rest down there look pretty pissed off at us..."

She was right. The Powder Gangers down below knew of their location and were spilling out from the front gate, about fifteen in all. They were yelling in anger and firing bullets into the air, leaving Brianna and Sunny grossly outnumbered, with very little chance of surviving or escaping. Unless...

Brianna waited for them to get closer, letting them group closely together as they raced up the hill, almost comically enraged that two little girls were screwing them over so easily. The shot would be tricky while her opponents were moving so quickly, but she couldn't see any other option. She quickly lined up her shot at the first belt she saw and fired. The dynamite went off with a bang, igniting the other explosives that the Powder fucks had tucked into their belts. In a grotesque display of fireworks they exploded high into the air, decorating the sky with blood, vomit, stray limbs and vital organs. Brianna's head pounded fiercely, her ears ringing from the blast, but she still looked on with a triumphant smirk as the ground below them was splattered with red and blue. They had won.

Sunny looked on with widened eye, the tan drained from her face. Brianna got to her feet, reaching out a hand to console her friend, but it was gently pushed away. "You... You're..." Sunny's mouth gaped, looking comically like a feeding gecko. It was a while before she could speak again. "You're crazy. You are batshit fucking insane," she managed, her voice a mixture of disbelief and nervous giddiness.

"I saved our lives, didn't I? We didn't stand a chance against those-"

"Did you see the god damned look on your face?! You looked... God, you looked delighted with yourself! Don't tell me you actually enjoyed that!" On a hasty note she added, "...You didn't, did you?"

"Uh..." She paused, unsure of what to say. She didn't even know why Sunny was so mad at her in the first place. She's just saved both their lives, dammit! Didn't she have the right to feel happy with her accomplishment. After a long period of silence Brianna turned, responding to the question with a simple, deadpan "Yep."

Sunny shook her head in bewilderment before turning to look at the mass of body parts before them, her lips disappearing into a thin line. "Promise not to slip a live frag mine in my pocket while I sleep?"

"I promise."

"Then I guess we'll be alright."

She stood up, brushed the sand off her armour and waited for Brianna to do the same. "Guess we have some shopping to do. Just... Just Don't make me poke through the gooey parts, alright?"

* * *

"Catch!" Brianna called, tossing the semiautomatic over her shoulder for Sunny to catch. "I would suggest you use that instead of your shitty old pistol. You'll be able to spray, at least, and it's got an extended magazine for extra shootin' time. It's a wonder that old thing even survived with only a scratch to the paintwork."

Brianna huffed out a sigh. The semiauto was one of the very few items to survive the explosion. Whatever was left intact proved to be almost useless items like medical braces and half empty packets of food. They had, however, managed to scavenge some ammo for Brianna's rifle and Sunny's new semiautomatic. Guess it's better than nothing, she supposed, getting to her feet and dusting herself off.

"Guess that's everything," Sunny said, shouldering her bag. "You think we should set out? We'll reach Primm in a couple of hours if we hurry, or we could find some place to camp out. I don't mind taking first watch." She smiled.

"I'd actually like to go inside. There's gotta some more stuff in there, and I don't think those Powder Gangers are smart enough to ambush us. They woulda come out here already and blown us sky high."

"I'm not so certain. They're pretty unpredictable..." She scratched a whining Cheyenne behind the ears and skipped the dig a small treat from her pocket. "But I guess there's no point in hiding from the people trying to kill us. If they really do want us dead, they won't let us just get up and leave here. If there are any more left, that is."

"Sounds great. Let's get started."

They quickly but quietly descended the flank of the hill Brianna gritting her teeth against the piercing headache and Sunny keeping a close eye out for any Powder Gangers that might spot them. They continued on until they reaches the wired fence surrounding the compound, a rusted gate and a lot stretch of dirt separating them from the front door. Brianna fought to pull the gate open until it gave out with a loud, ringing 'screeeeech'. She had half-expected to hear an alarm going off, alerting the rest of the Powder Gangers to their position, but the compound remained silent and undisturbed.

"You don't think it'll be a little, uh... Conspicuous if we use the front door?" Sunny questioned, binoculars raised as she scanned the heavy labour grounds for anyone who might spot them. The coast was clear so far, thankfully. It looked like lady luck still playing in their favour, at least for now.

"I could blow it up, if you want?" Brianna suggested with a hopeful grin, fingering the loops on her belt from which her grenades were hanging. "It'll give away our position, but I make it my priority to go in and out with a bang."

"Save the explosives, sweetie," Sunny laughed, I dictating towards the wooden door just a stretch ahead of them. "After you."

Brianna mustered her best puppy dog expression, sticking her lip out and visibly deflating. "Pretty please?"

Taking a few long steps back and calling Cheyenne over to her side, Sunny blew out a sigh and glanced at the door, then back to Brianna with a bemused expression. "Knock yourself out. Just try not to get yourself blown up, okay? I'm not saving you from that again. Only have one hand left, remember?"

"Yaaaay!' Brianna clapped her hands together before unlooping a frag grenade and pulling the pin. She gently tossed it and let it roll along the narrow stretch of dirt until it hit the door with a light 'clink'. She quickly ran and ducked behind a nearby trashcan, almost retching at the rotten smell of decay that seeped from it, filling her nostrils and making her eyes water. She waited for the blast and leapt out from behind the trashcan, narrowly avoiding the glass and splinters that exploded from the entrance.

They burst through the newly-exploded hole in the wall with pistols drawn, Cheyenne growling at their heels. I side they found a group of three terrified Powder Gangers, each caught off guard with their hands raised high in the air. "Don't shoot!" They begged, "Dammit, please don't shoot!"

After shooting Sunny a glance the pair nodded and finished off two of the Powder Gangers, each one taking a bullet to the chest. Brianna cringed inwardly as she aimed her pistol at the remaining convict, a noticeable liquid stain forming on the crotch of his trousers as he fell to his knees, whimpering incoherently. It was Sunny who put the bullet through his skull with a snarl of disgust.

"They say 'don't shoot' so they can shoot you first." She said grimly, holstering her pistol and allowing Cheyenne to lick at her hand as an indication that they were safe again. Sunny shot Brianna a glance. "We gonna clean this place out?"

"That's why we're here, isn't it?" She smiled, taking in the area. It looked to be a rundown old lounge room, with a couple of tables and chairs pressed against the right side of the room, a large amount of which had been blown open, thanks to Brianna's frag grenade. A desk was situated on the opposite wall, complete with a smashed in terminal and some broken beer bottles, their contents spilled out over the floor. Behind the desk was a working fridge and a vending machine, which Sunny made a beeline towards. Brianna herself moved torwards the bodies, digging in their pockets and coming up with some 5.56mm magazines and some more bullets for her pistol. Naturally, she avoided the piss-stained Powder Ganger and quickly moved on to a first aid kit nailed to the wall, which contained a few stimpaks and bandages. She gathered them up quickly, happy with all she had scavenged.

"Cereal bars... Cereal bars... Cereal bars... Cereal bars..." Sunny mumbled, shovelling whatever she could find from the fridge (mainly cereal bars, apparently) into her bag before moving on to the vending machine. She gave it a hard kick and a soft 'clink' could be heard as two bottles fell down. "Now it's a party!" She cried, rubbing her hands together with glee and gathering up the bottles. "And they're ice cold!"

"Could do with an ice cold beer, but I guess that'll do for now. Got everything?"

"Uh, looks like it. I think we can move on; I don't have much room for anything else. You think we could-"

"You girlies need any help in there?" A hoarse voice asked. Brianna turned, fumbling for her pistol and quickly aiming it at the stranger's head. He swaggered in calmly and leaned against the doorframe, a man of about fifty with a greying beard and a straw cowboy hat. She didn't see any dynamite about his person, but the blue NCRF uniform was enough to convince Brianna that the old man was Powder fuck, also known as a 'bad guy'.

"Now, now, I wouldn't wanna do that," the stranger said, raising his hands and slowly moving into view. In the faint light she could see the old man clearly, a thin, frail looking guy with a gaunt face and steelblue eyes rimmed with heavy, dark lines, as if he hadn't slept in days, maybe weeks. It didn't look like he'd eaten much in all that time, either. Although his face was square and hard, he had been reduced to a scarecrow with a straw hat, his uniform hanging from his skeletal figure. "I didn't do you no harm; shootin' me would just be ill-mannered." His voice was gruff and thick with a strong, old western accent, like from one of those pre-war cowboy movies.

"Not at all," Brianna smiled sweetly, "I would just be saving you the trouble of having to shoot us first. Now, here's what we're gonna do..." Brianna strolled to the other side of the room, keeping her gun trained on the Powder Ganger. "Get on your knees, put your hands behind your head, all that shit. Go."

Surprisingly, he did as he was bade and got to his knees. He even slowly unholstered the pistols at his side and slid them across the ground until they hit Brianna's feet. "Happy now, miss? I ain't one of those Powder Gangers; got a lot more self-respect than those murderous bastards. And I'm not askin' for any trouble."

Brianna scooped up the pistols from the floor before sitting herself up on a table and lowering her own gun. Sunny looked at her quizzically, but she said nothing. "Okay, fair enough. So about you tell me why you're here and what exactly you want. If I see that you're lying, then Cheyenne here," she nodded at the growling canine, "Will tear you to pieces. Sound simple enough?"

"Yes ma'am." The cowboy nodded, "I was dumped here by the good, bear-lovin' folks of NCR after a little... Misunderstanding. I used to be sheriff down South in Primm, but after the NCR took over they decided I was a little too forthright about my sense of justice and administration of the law. Then those Powder fucks took over and I carried on with the little charade, helped them bust out - they were gonna do it anyway. I stayed here though, in respect to the NCR and on 'request' of our little friends here." He nodded towards the piss-stained body on the floor. "All I want now is to head back to Primm, maybe convince the NCR to let me stay. Seems like a little too much to ask for, but I guess I have nothin' to lose. Anything's better than bein' stuck in this hole."

Sunny spoke up. "Forthright about your sense of justice?" She questioned.

He nodded. "If people in my town don't behave, I shoot them dead." He said bluntly, "The time of so-called 'human rights' is long over, missy. We have much more important things to be worrying about than fair trials, and the NCR only bother would said trials to make themselves look good; you know that as well as I do, miss."

"Don't you have any value for human life?" She asked, though not spitefully. It seemed like a genuine question.

"Indeed I do. Respect for my own life and for the lives of good people. Not low-life scum and raiders who steal and rape and kill. We're better off without them in this world, and whoever says that I don't have the right to decide that is badly mistaken, 'cause I'm the only one will big enough balls to deliver any justice out here."

Brianna couldn't keep quiet anymore, not with a question she was dying to ask. "Ever hear of Regulators, old man? Large organisation of vigilantes, huge out east in DC, but not so much out here. Used to be my line of work, and we dished out the same justice you have in mind." She grinned, already finding common ground with the sheriff. "Of course, I was in it mostly for the caps, but I can't say I didn't enjoy givin' people what they deserved. One more dead raider is one less person dead, in a sense." She said, ignoring Sunny's flinch.

"Right you are, miss. Right you are." He got to his feet and dusted off his trousers. "Would this be a good time tp exchange formalities over a brahmin steak?" He asked, "Haven't eaten in a while. Could use a drink of somethin' too."

Brianna opened her bag and tossed him a small bag of potato fries, which he caught easily in his left hand. "Much obliged," he said, tearing open the bag and pouring the contents into his mouth, abandoning any thought of formalities and table manners. Brianna wondered how long it had been since his last meal.

One the bag was empty the man tossed it aside and stretched widely. "Sorry about that, missy," he said, seeing the perplexed look on Sunny's face. "Haven't eaten in a while, 'case you couldn't tell." He wiped his hand down on his trousers before extending it towards her. "Name's Clifton Meyers."

She took his hand and shook it. "Sunny Smiles."

After exchanging the same formality with Brianna, Meyers looked at the both of them. "I'm guessin' you're headin' to Primm, right? Or at least passin' through? 'Cause I would sure appreciate the company, and we're both headed down the same road anyway, ain't we?"

Brianna looked at Sunny, who hesitated before nodding in confirmation. "Couldn't hurt," she supposed, "And we are headed in the same direction anyway."

Brianna grinned. "Then let's hurry onwards."


	8. Time Long Gone

**The Wild, Wild Wasteland**

**July 19**

** 17:29**

Their journey continued until the sun had made its gracious descent, basking the Mojave with a soft, pink glow. The road was long and empty and Primm was nowhere in sight, lost behind the road's high slopes and mountains. The world was quiet for now, but it wouldn't be long before the wasteland's abominations crept out of their holes to hunt. Brianna could only hope that the group would find camp before then; she'd had enough time with her thoughts for one day, and for the first time since she had returned from the grave, the uneasiness of their adventure was slowly setting in, everything finally becoming real. Despite the cheery cowboy, the softly humming blonde and their canine companion following at her heels, Brianna had never felt so hopelessly alone.

"You okay, sweetie?" Sunny asked, sensing Brianna's tension.

She nodded slowly, but her nervous expression betrayed her agitation. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." She mumbled. But she wasn't. Dammit, she couldn't put her finger on what it was. She had walked this road on numerous occasions before, returning from long trips or heading for a new destination. But that wasn't it. No, she knew this road like the back of her hand, it was _that_ road. And it taunted her.

"Had enough of the tough chick routine for one night?" Meyers chuckled, wiping his brow with the back of his hand and allowing a wide stretch, his bones cracking audibly. "I can't say I blame ya for not bein' in good spirits. Doesn't look like this little trip's gonna be over before nightfall. Any suggestions on a nice hole to snuggle up in for the night, if you're such a wilderness expert?"

His question was met with silence as Brianna glanced at her Pip-Boy. Seven thirty. No way in hell would they get to Primm before dark, and Brianna didn't fancy their chances out in the dead of night, not in this area. The mountains were a particular hot spot for Deathclaws and Nightstalkers - not a good combination of predators that you'd want to run into. Deathclaws had terrible eyesight paired with deadly claws that could (and would) swipe your head clean off your shoulders if you didn't scoot over fast enough. Nightstalkers did a wonderful job of covering up the Deathclaw's weaknesses: their eyesight was highly acute and accustomed to darkness, and they had a deadly bite infused with icy venom, although they proved to be easier to take down if you caught one alone.

Brianna explained all of this carefully to her companions as they continued further, keeping her eyes busy as they scanned the surrounding area for any signs of movement. She missed the impressed but worried look on Sunny's face as the blonde was met with the realisation that their journey could so easily come to a permanent halt if they weren't extremely careful. Only Meyers offered a comment.

"Hear that, missy? Howling, not too far ahead, comin' from that pathway cutting through the canyon. Coyotes, I'd reckon. If you're such a survival expert, would you have any idea of what that means?"

She knew what it meant, alright. "We avoid said area and get eaten by Nightstalkers or we obliterate that pack and get a nice, juicy coyote steak," Brianna smiled, already feeling safer with people who obviously knew how to handle themselves, or at least to some extent. And the mere thought of devouring an actual meal (cereal bars not included) was enough to make her mouth water, even make her forget about her initial reluctance to journey further on through the canyon road.

_A delicious steak with mashed potatoes and mantis legs, with an ice cold Nuka Cola to wash it all down..._

"My thoughts exactly, miss. Can't be too hard takin' them down, and it'll sure be a lot easier than any other predator we'll find lurkin' up in those mountains. C'mon, I wouldn't wanna spend any more time out in the open. Scoot yer boots."

They did, and they were near the mountain pass within a couple of minutes. Sunny silenced her humming and walked with her pistol drawn, Cheyenne remaining obediently silent after her master had warned her about keeping quiet. Meyers led the way with his hunting rifle ready, and Brianna followed closely suit with her pistol drawn as they trekked through the pass, the howls in the distance slowly fading until all they could hear were the rasps of their own breathing. Brianna hadn't even noticed the cold bite in the air until she saw her own breath forming a cool, shapeless could of vapour. The moon was slowly creeping from beyond the horizon, and the world was growing dark.

"Keep quiet," Meyers whispered, "I'd reckon we'll be taking on the Alpha and his pups; the howling's too high-pitched for grown coyotes. You alright with killin' baby mongrels?" He asked, the question obviously directed at Sunny, the dog lover, who replied with a slow nod, though her eyes were sad and her expression uncertain.

"Bitches gotta eat," Brianna muttered, slowly edging further along the path until they found the coyote den - a cave, situated right inside the the wall of the canyon with the opening being the only visible part. Brianna could see the coyote pups padding around the small den, and what must have been the alpha of the pack was prowling the area intently. It was a truly heartwarming sight, she had to admit, but it didn't last long. Meyers didn't waste a second as he loaded his rifle and blew apart the alpha's head, alerting coyote pups who hurried from their den, their pack numbers now reduced to only five. They charged for the intruders, who set to work instantly. Brianna fired twice at the first pup, wincing as she heard it squeak before falling to the ground. Cheyenne and Meyers made short work of the other three, and Brianna finished off the last with a short spray of bullets. Sunny remained idle, though Brianna felt it best not to say anything. It was done.

Without a trace of remorse, Meyers dumped his rifle on the ground and produced a knife that had been holstered at his side. "Anyone gonna help me with this?" He asked, obviously not expecting a positive answer as he moved to the alpha and sat himself down on the ground beside the butchered animal.

"I think I'll pass," Sunny said, averting her eyes as Meyers plunged his knife into the alpha's gut. "Someone should scout the area; we don't know what's ahead," she offered, her face growing pale.

"I'll join you," Brianna offered, though she knew exactly what to expect up ahead. She could already feel the cold from the windstorms that blew from miles away. "I know this place. I, um... Delivered a package here before. You won't find anything left, but there's no harm in taking a look, I guess." Anything would be an improvement to watching Meyers gut the coyote pups.

Sunny called for Cheyenne and the pair set off down the passageway, leaving Meyers behind to construct their dinner. Brianna followed, not bothering to draw her pistol.

"So you've been here before, sweetie?" Sunny asked, "Doesn't look like there's anything interesting. I've never even heard of it, but..." She cleared her throat, "I never hear about much."

"Mmm, I've been here," Brianna agreed, keeping her tone as neutral as possible. How long had it been, anyway? A year? Two, perhaps? Maybe even more than that. She still didn't know what had been in the package, but it had helped to blow the place sky high and destroy whatever had remained of it. Beyond the mountain pass had been Hopeville, the subject of a huge Big Mountain research and testing area before the Great War. That was all she knew. Now, the place was a wreckage, torn apart by skin-flaying windstorms after it had been destroyed by nuclear weapons. But it wasn't the war that had dealt the destruction. That had happened after she'd delivered her mysterious package and been on her merry way. Whatever she'd been carrying had helped to destroy Hopeville and whatever... Whoever... had been left inside. Now, folks were calling it 'The Divide'. She wasn't sure why.

"Looks like the path ends here," Sunny commented, a hint of disappoint in her tone as she directed her attention to the wreckage that lay before them. Just ahead, their path was obstructed by a wall of storm-tossed wreckage and destruction. The remains of buildings and structures lay ahead of them, along with various car parts and twisted metal that had long since rusted into each other.

Brianna didn't see any of that. She saw only the red lettering scrawled across the wreckage, screaming to be noticed. Bright red graffiti every she looked, staining her vision with crimson. She saw her name written on a large hunk of scrap metal that was embedded in the ground. Her name. The messages had been left there for her.

"BRIANNA O'REILLY"

Scrawled on the remains of a billboard...

"COURIER SIX"

On a pile of twisted metal...

"YOU CAN GO HOME NOW COURIER"

On the walls of the canyon...

"YOU CAN GO HOME"

"YOU CAN GO HOME"

"GO HOME"

"GO HOME"

"YOU CAN GO HOME NOW COURIER"

She felt dizzy. And then, right in front of her, a sign.

"Welcome to Lonesome Road."

It happened all at once. The persistent buzzing in her ears drowned out the sound of Cheyenne's concerned barking as Brianna fell to her knees. Lightning cracked along the lines of her vision as the fire in her brain spread to every inch of her body, taking control of her limbs and disabling her senses until was numbed to all but the splitting agony tearing through her.

The world went dark.

* * *

"I don't give a shit about your damned steaks, we're not staying!"

"Look, sweetie-"

"Don't 'sweetie' me!"

Brianna sat against the cavern wall, holding her head in her hands. She had only managed to drag herself back to their campsite before she felt another seizure threatening to take over. She didn't know what the hell had happened before that, but those messages had certainly messed her up badly. She had succeeded in wiping the memory of that delivery from her mind, and now it was back to bite her in the ass for it. Karma's a bitch.

"Look, swee- Brianna... Let's just talk about this, okay?" Sunny moved to her side, a plastic plate still in hand. "What happened?"

"You know what happened, sure you do. Hopeville, explosion, courier, et cetera? I may have... Delivered a package containing all of the necessary equipment to make the nuclear rockets go boom shakalaka. At least, that's what I think it was. That's what it seemed like at the time. That shit on the wreckage out there, that was as much confirmation as I need. It was a taunt, too. Somebody's pretty pissed off..."

She felt a reassuring hand on her arm. "Hey, you don't know what that was and I don't want you worrying about it, okay? You're still recovering from your injury." She sighed, "Maybe we should have waited until..."

"No." Brianna shook her head. "Don't tell me that I should have stayed in bed until my booboo got better, alright? I'm a big girl and I can handle myself. I like you Sunny, but you're not my mom. Let's just eat these damned steaks and fuuuuuck it."

Sunny smiled and bounced up onto her feet. "Steeeeeaks!" She sang, skipping over towards their campfire and plopping down beside Meyers and Cheyenne. Brianna followed, hearing the longing growls of her empty stomach as she inhaled the mouthwatering scent of juicy, fat steaks. Totally worth murdering a pack of baby animals.

"Nice, hot, juicy steaks comin' riiiight up!" Meyers declared, using his knife to pierce through the steaks which were roasting nicely over the fire. He plopped one on each of their plates (god knows where he'd found those) as Sunny dished out the mashed potatoes and some leftover fried mantis legs from doc Mitchell. Brianna smiled at the memory of Goodsprings, and even more so when Cheyenne grabbed the steak from Meyers' plate and went bounding off into the cave. It was going to be a good night, she could tell.

* * *

"Wakey wakey, sleepyheeeeeead~!"

Her eyelids fluttered. The first thing she felt was a dull pounding in her head, then a hand on top of her head as her hair was ruffled by a singing Sunny Smiles. Finally, she felt the long, rough tongue of Cheyenne licking at her face, the dog's warm fur scratching her bare arms. Her muscles ached from a long day of walking and a longer night of lying on a hard cave floor. Surely she could just... Sleep a little longer... Just... "Just a few more minutes..."

"Nuh uh! Rise and shine, sweetie! We have a big day ahead of us!"

She groaned, slowly rolling over to lie on her left side. The pain hit instantly as her healing scar hit the cave floor, causing her to yelp loudly and shoot upwards. "Gaaah, fuck..." She muttered, scratching the back of her head before stretching her arms out widely and letting out a wide yawn.

"That's the spirit~" Sunny sang, tossing a bundle of clothes in Brianna's face before she could even open her eyes. "Hurry up and get changed; breakfast's almost ready!"

Mumbling incoherently, Brianna rubbed her eyes tiredly before finally a opening them. She had to blink against the morning sunlight at first before her eyes adjusted, but overall she was feeling refreshed after a long nights' rest, though it hadn't been a particularly comfortable one without even so much as a bedroll to sleep on. Still, at least they'd had the safety of the cave, with Cheyenne to keep watch. Sunny and Meyers had each taken their turn to keep watch, despite having the obedient mutt at their side. Sunny had claimed to feel safer looking out with her own eyes, and they would be more alert and ready if something happened. They'd even allowed Brianna to sleep on, probably on Sunny's insistence.

She stood up, gathering her armour and wrinkling her nose in disgust as she inhaled the pungent odour of a days' worth of sweat. Dammit, she smelled bad. She could only dream about a nice hot shower once they reached Primm, maybe even a hairbrush and some soap...

"Sweetie, you have a hot bod and everything, but you can't stand around in your panties forever. People might start to notice." Sunny smiled, tossing a cereal bar her way. Predictably, it landed on the ground. "Eat that when you're done, okay?"

"Uh, sure..." She nodded, struggling her way into the tight armour. Getting the damned thing to fit was a challenge in itself; the thing was tight in all the right ways to accentuate her curves, but uncomfortable and suffocating and unbearably hot. She supposed that was the price you had to pay for looking so damn fine.

"Hey, where's Meyers?" Brianna asked, slipping her rifle over one shoulder and slinging her bag over the other. "He isn't spying on us or making me a delicious breakfast, so remind me why the hell we're keeping him around?" She stooped down to lift the cereal bar, biting the wrapper off and stuffing it into her mouth, only just realising how hungry she was, even after their delicious dinner the previous evening.

"Right over here, miss." Meyers emerged from behind the corner, complete with his straw hat and lazy, southern drawl. "And excuse me for being under the impression that I was 'bein' kept around' because I'm such good company and an amazing cook."

"Whatever, old man."

"Yep, I'm gettin' ridda you two today anyway. If you hurry up your asses, that is. Primm's only 'bout a half mile away, maybe a little more."

"You sure about that?" Brianna questioned, referring to her Pip-Boy. It was seven thirty - a pretty good time to rise, she figured - and her map told her that Primm was still a stretch away. A stretch that went on for at least three more miles. Checkmate, old man. Still, she decided to keep quiet about that little fact and allow them to believe that the journey would be shorter. No point in dampening their spirits after all; it would seem like everyone needed something to lift their moods after the long trek yesterday. And of course, Sunny and Brianna were healing from near-fatal injuries and Meyers had been stuck in a damp hole for god only knew how long. Cheyenne seemed to be the only party member who was truly upbeat as she waited patiently outside the cave for her master to get ready.

Sunny was sitting on the ground just outside of the cave with her bag wide open. Brianna could see her slowly undressing what remained of her destroyed hand, although her back was turned so that she couldn't see the damage. Honestly, she thought it was amazing that the doc had actually managed to fix her hand up so quickly, especially when she had, uh... Well, she'd basically dragged Sunny behind a rock and left her to bleed out so she could stay and fight off the remaining Powder Gangers. She supposed it really was a miracle that her friend was alive, and for that she had never really been grateful for. She appreciated the company of Sunny Smiles, a lot more now than she'd even realised.

"Would it be rude to poke fun now, because that hand ain't growing back any time soon?" Brianna asked, moving over beside the blonde and sitting herself down next to her, Cheyenne following closely behind. She raised an eyebrow at the small glass bottles of medication that were laid out on the ground, including wads of cotton wool and gauze. She didn't have time to prepare for the next sight to catch her eye. The stump of Sunny's hand had been roughly stitched just below the wrist, but it was already clean healing up nicely, with only light redness around the middle of the stump. Still, it broke Brianna's heart to see what her own life had cost Sunny. She was an amputee, and unless she rolled around in enough radioactive goo to make another hand grow out of her bellybutton, she would remain that way for all her life.

And all because of some mouthy stranger.

"Call me Stumpy, or any variation of it, and I swear Brianna O'Reilly, I will strangle you with one hand and gut you like a fish with a blade between my teeth," she growled, maybe only half-serious, but Brianna decided it best not to take her chances.

"Okaaay, remind me not to supply you with any pointy object."

"Think you've ganched enough for one mornin'? Meyers asked, clapping his hands together, "we've got a long way ahead of us and the day is young. We'll make it Primm in not time if you move your asses."

"Sure thing, Sherrif!" Sunny smiled, gently putting all of her bottles back into her medical kit before reaching for her bandage roll, likely supplied by doc Mitchell. She stared it down for a moment before awkwardly pulling it out onehandedly and trying to wrap it around her stump. The thing uselessly fell away after a few seconds, and the blonde's face grew red with embarrassment. Hesitantly, she looked to Brianna for help, not saying anything as she continued to blush brightly.

Offering a warm smile, Brianna took the bandage and pressed the first end over the stump in what she felt was the appropriate place. "Here, let me help with that." Touching the smooth skin felt strange at first, but she soon grew accustomed to the feeling as she gently wrapped the bandage around, careful not to hurt her. She wasn't sure if the stump would still be painful, but she wasn't willing to chance it. Once she was the stump was neatly wrapped, she bluntly asked for a pair of scissors, which Sunny found after a few moments of scrambling through her medical bag. She cut the bandage herself before sticking it tightly onto the stump with some surgical tape. "Voila~" she sang triumphantly, admiring their handy work, "Better than doc Mitchell himself!" She beamed.

"Don't we make an excellent pair?" Brianna grinned, hopping to her feet and dusting herself off before ruffling Sunny's hair. "Now hurry your ass up, I have business to take care of, remember?"

Damn, that was right. They'd had fun and everything, but now was the time to really think about why they were on this trip in the first place. She could let go for a while and show a sweeter side of herself, but that didn't erase who she was, and that would be a hardass wasteland chick with a slight chaos addiction and a fiery passion do what was right. But that didn't make her a good person. She wasn't sweet, kind Brianna who wrapped up bandages and sang to the radio. Sure she liked to work for the greater good and all of that, but most of what she did was either for herself, the money, or for the sheer damned hell of it. When she killed people she did it for the satisfaction as much as self-protection. She was neutral at the most, and certainly not a good person. She wanted answers as much as she wanted revenge, and she would stop at nothing to get both. The time for talk and play was over... As much as she hated to admit it. After all, it was nice to feel safe for a while.

"And so do I," Meyers called, leaning against the canyon walls with his arms folded. So I would suggest you ladies save the bonding moments for later and get a move on!"

They left the canyon behind them and continued down the long road to Primm. The scorching heat of the Mojave was eventually beginning to return as the sun crept higher from behind the rocky canyon, lifting their spirits as it went. There was nothing to do but ration out the last of their water (a pathetic bottle and a half) and fill the heavy silence with conversation.

"So girlies, how 'bout you tell me where yer headed and why. I find that I don't know the slightest damned thing about any of you mysterious ladies. Be good to know that yer not serial killers or nothing, 'cause then I'd have to shoot ya."

Another wince from Sunny. "Uh, well, me and Cheyenne here come from Goodsprings, and we're off on a little adventure, aren't we sweetie?" She bent down to scratch her beloved dog behind the ears, slipping him a small bone-shaped treat from her pocket which Cheyenne finished in a matter of seconds. "I'm here with Bree, of course. She wanted to, uh, help me out I guess after..." She presented her bandaged arm with a slight shrug.

"Ah yes, that infamous stump. How'd you come to lose that hand anyway? Looks like a pretty recent job to me," he wondered, "or is miss O'Reilly holding you hostage after dealing a brutal attack on your poor right hand?" He offered. "Blink once for yes, twice for no."

She laughed. "I wish it was that interesting. Nah, Goodsprings got into a little trouble with Powder Gangers. No fatalities, except for them of course." She grinned, "It was a pretty hairy fight, so I'm told, though I spent most of it screaming behind a pile of rocks."

Meyers chuckled. "Is that so?"

"She isn't telling the story right," Brianna admitted, "she left out the bit where I was tackled by this manic bitch who lit a stick of dynamite and tried to blow us all up. Enter Sunny who throws her off me, kicks her away, grabs the dynamite and just manages to throw it away before... _BANG_! Half her fingers - gone. It was all I could do when I cut off the bleeding hand and dragged the hero to safety." She finished, the story complete with wild hand actions and sound effects, making Sunny blush red with what Brianna took for embarrassment.

"Ha, well ain't that somethin'," Meyers remarked. "But I don't see how that could bring you girlies out here, in the middle of the wild, wild wasteland. What're you lookin' for, anyway?"

"A man," Brianna stated simply, "Benny. Checkered suit, gelled hair. New Vegas type. He, uh..." She formed a pistol with her fingers and aimed kjt at her head, "did this to me. Shot me in the head and buried me in a shallow grave, all because of a chip I was carrying," she explained, "and that's why I'm a sour old bitch with a scarred mess for the left side of my head."

Meyers was silent for a moment. "You are kidding, ain't ya?"

Both Sunny and Brianna shook their heads. "If I was, I'd be drinking, fucking and gambling in New Vegas without a messed up face and a cowboy vigilante asking me questions." She said bluntly. That seemed to convince Meyers.

"Huh... Well, that sure is interesting. Guess yer story beats mine, anyway. So where are you headed now? Trackin' down the man who shot ya, tight? And then what?"

"I'm gonna get answers, and then I'm gonna kill him," she stated simply, sounding a lot more confident than she felt. She wasn't even sure if she wanted to kill him, and admittedly, it scared her a little that murder was the first thing on her mind after getting answers. Revenge just seemed to be the most fitting option for an evil bastard like Benny. And it wasn't like she'd never killed anybody before; she didn't have an innocence or morals to protect.

Suddenly, a low, guttural growl emitted from the mongrel at their heels. Sunny frowned, scratching the dog's ears. She went on to explain that Cheyenne only growled when she could hear something. "She's trained we'll, so it couldn't be anything else..."

Then she saw them in the corner of her eye, whatever the hell they were. Tiny silhouettes moving erratically in different directions. Brianna felt a hand on her shoulder and she was pulled down behind a pile of rocks and rubble. Meyers crouched by her side, followed by Sunny and Cheyenne, who was snarling viciously.

"Bloatflies," Meyers whispered. "Not too hard to shoot down, but they have venomous saliva like acid, which they spit out from a distance when they feel threatened. They feed on rotting flesh, but they ain't fussy. Fresh corpses'll do just as well..."

"Now would be a good time to make use of that scope, sweetie..." Sunny suggested, keeping her voice hushed.

Shit. "Have you seen the speed of those things? I can't hit him unless they stop moving," Brianna whispered, readying her rifle anyway, in case worst came to worst. And it usually did.

"Just take out a couple, if you can. They won't see you if you keep low, and that thing's got a suppressor, by the looks of it," Meyers offered. "It's our only chance at the minute."

"No pressure..." She muttered, leaning low against the rocks and pressing the scope to her eye. She could see about five of the fat flies buzzing around a pile of what looked to be a large puddle of radioactive goop. They were in closer proximity now, just a short stretch away, and she could easily make out their ugly brown faces and huge eyes. Dammit, she hated the things. Selecting one of the bloatflies, she focused her aim on the body, but the damned fly wouldn't keep still. Time for some quick reflexes. She estimated where the thing would fly next and focused her aim there, jerking her finger on the trigger as soon as the creature emerged into her sights. Surprisingly, she managed to shoot the thing right in one of its clear, crystalline wings, sending it falling to the ground with an ear-piercing shriek. The muffler did its job and the flies didn't hear the shot being fired, but they did appear to be more alert than before, and their flight patterns growing increasingly erratic. Fuck, she would never hit another one!

"Give it to me," Sunny ordered sharply, nodding her head towards the rifle.

Brianna blinked. "Sunny, you can't-"

"Prop it up on the rocks, okay? Just there..."

Brianna did as she was asked, moving away slightly to allow Sunny room. Her expression was doubtful as Sunny lay down against the sand and moved the scope to her eye, keeping the rifle in balance with her bandaged hand. Her left hand was clumsy as it adjusted the rifle. Brianna saw her finger brushing against the trigger. She fired, the gun slamming against Sunny's shoulder but she swallowed her cry of pain. Brianna peered up from over the rocks and saw that only three bloatflies had been left. Sunny had managed to shoot the second.

"Shit..." Brianna muttered, watching Sunny stick her tongue out in concentration as she took down the next bloatfly. And the next. And finally, after a few long moments, the final creature was shot through the stomach, releasing a wild, agonised shriek as it died. "That's... Something." Brianna managed, enjoying the proud expression Sunny wore as she moved away from the scope with a triumphant smirk. "Just leave things to the pro next time~" The blonde sang.

Meyers looked on with a dumbfounded expression. "My god, girly!" He exclaimed, his tone one of incredulous disbelief. "Now that was somethin' special."

Sunny beamed and handed the rifle back to Brianna, who struggled for words. "Where the hell did you learn to shoot like that?" She asked, ignoring the fact that the woman had not only taken down four rapidly moving flies, but she had done it with only one hand.

Sunny faltered. "Uh, someone taught me. A friend, I guess..."

Brianna looked doubtful, but didn't say anything more. She got up, taking the rifle and slinging it over her her shoulder before offering Sunny a hand and yanking her up. "Nice shooting, sweetie!" She teased, quoting exactly what Sunny had said to her on the night they'd practised shooting bottles. Sunny rolled her eyes in response.

* * *

"And here we are!" Meyers declaring, standing atop the hill with his hands on his hips as he took in the glory of Primm, just a ways down the road. "Ladies and gentleman, I believed we have finally reached our destination!"

"It's about damned time," Sunny remarked, and Cheyenne barked in confirmation, her tail fiercely wagging in anticipation. "Alright, go on. Take a sniff," Sunny ordered, and the dog went bounding off down the hill, a blur of white and grey.

The rest of the walk hadn't taken long, really. They'd walked for another half hour, stopping only to finish off what remained of their food and water supply, and it hadn't been long before Primm had finally come into view.

Brianna eyed the town silently through her binoculars. From their place atop the hill she could easily see beyond the high walls and iron fences, and into the streets inside. It was a small place, probably only a shadow of what it had once been before the world went crapsack. The remains of the pavements were cracked and destroyed, leading up to two large buildings in the centre. She could make out the sign on only one, 'The Bison Steve', a casino made up of crumbling, dusty redbrick. It wouldn't be in any way remarkable were it not for the big ass rollercoaster situated behind it. The lights surrounding it were busted and dead, and all that remained was the track itself, hardly sturdy but surprisingly intact.

"Nobody's on the streets," Brianna remarked, frowning. "And it looks like your buddies at the NCR are camped out just outside, flying their little flag... How cute."

Meyers grunted in response.

"Well, what are you girls waiting for?" She asked, lowering the binoculars and stretching widely as she made her way down the hill. Her headache was stronger than usual, likely due to the intense heat and their long journey, however it didn't bother her. Play time was over, after all, and she couldn't let anything distract her. She had been allowed time to forget herself, but now... Things were different. She could feel something changing as the group reached the NCR encampment and they were greeted by a watchman who jogged up to greet them.

"Hey, you three'll want to stay on the other side of the wall unless you wanna get shot," he warned, his expression stony and his eyed dark from many nights spent lying awake. "Hurry along."

They didn't. "NCR don't shoot civilians - you've got the wrong side of the war there, my friend." Brianna pointed out, "so who's in there? What's going on in Primm?"

The trooper hesitated, sighed, and motioned for them to come closer. "Behind the shack, and keep quiet. Never know when those bastards are gonna start taking potshots," he grumbled.

They did as they were ordered, keeping low in case they were seen by whatever 'bastards' were skulking around inside the town. They all managed to fit behind the small structure, and even Cheyenne could squeeze in next to her master. The trooper released a long, defeated sigh before he explained, "this town has been taken over by a group of convicts that recently escaped the NCRF prison."

"Powder Gangers?" Sunny asked.

"Not this time, thankfully. We can barely take on these cocksuckers without their damned dynamite. Nah, we don't know what they're calling themselves and it doesn't matter. Point is, we're stuck out here until... Well, I don't fucking know. Until something happens. The captain could probably tell you more, but his up to his ears in problems already, as it happens. Gotta make it seem like we're doing something." He shrugged, the tone of his voice and surprising number of expletives indicating that he had long since given up hope.

"And why aren't you doing anything?" Meyers asked, an icy tone in his voice.

The exhausted soldier let out a dry, humourless chuckle. "Look at us for Christ's sake. We're done. We're outnumbered, outgunned, and morale's already run dry. We're out of food complete and ammo's not much better. There's no way we could run them out of here. The Legion's wiped us clean and we're barely holding it together as it is, I just..." He paused. "Look, I don't know if I should be telling you this; you are civilians, after all, but... We're fighting for the people, right? That's what we're supposed to be doing. But dammit if we haven't grown desperate, just taking and taking and taking until we can't defend ourselves against a bunch of fucking convicts that escaped out of our prison." He shook his head. "I don't know. I just wanna see my family."

Meyers nodded solemnly. "We all know how that feels, soldier," he said, patting the man on the shoulder. "Keep up the good work and all that for now. Things will turn up, eventually," he said, and Brianna could sense the ingenuity in his voice, but at least he was trying.

"So what's the plan, sweetie?" Sunny asked, "because it wouldn't be like you to turn away from a fight." She smiled.

The trooper interrupted before she could even answer. "Sorry, miss. I don't know what the fuck the NCR are doing, but me... It's my duty to keep civilians safe. I'm afraid I can't let you go past."

Wrong answer, buddy. Brianna released a light sigh and turned to the man, her stony expression melting into a sincere expression of sadness. "Look, soldier..." Forcing herself to forget about the scars marking her face, she brushed her hair from her eyes and drew herself up slightly to subtly draw attention to her curves and chest. "I know what I'm doing. And I really, really need to get in here, you don't understand, I..." She pursed her lips and pointed to left side of her face, "someone did this to me, and I will live in pain for the rest of my life. I need answers quickly, and this is the first step forward. Do this for me and I swear, I will do anything to make it up to you." She stressed the word anything.

The trooper cleared his throat awkwardly, shuffling in his heavy, earth-coloured armour. "Uh, well, uh, if you think you can handle yourself, miss, then..." Again he cleared his throat.

Brianna smiled sweetly. "Thank you, soldier. That means a lot."

The group were off quickly, leaving the soldier to stand awkwardly and think about what he'd done. Brianna smirked as they headed for the entrance, unable to hide the feeling of smug satisfaction as Meyers commented on how persuasive she could be ("Shoulda took you for a black widow all along. Damn, girl").

Before they could reach the wooden pathway that lead into the front gates, however, they were halted by a booming voice emitting from the cluster of tents. "Stop! Don't take another step further!" A man's voice called. Brianna turned around to find another soldier, slightly older than the first, hurrying towards them. "Lieutenant Hayes at your service, civilians," he quickly went over the general greeting, "And I'm afraid I can't let you through."

"We got permission from the man just over there..." Sunny began.

"The permission of Private Bales won't protect you against those proximity mines, civilian." He stated, nodding towards the wooden bridge. As expected, the path was littered with small, rounded objects with red LEDs marking the centre. Landmines.

"And that's how they're keeping you out?" Sunny asked.

The Lieutenant cleared his throat, struggling to maintain his composure. "Negative, civilian. We, uh... I'm afraid that it's NCR business, not to be discussed with, uh, civilians like yourselves," he stammered. "Move along, now."

"You cowardly bastards..." Meyers muttered.

Brianna wasn't as passive-aggressive and made her rage clearly apparent to the so-called 'soldier'. "You're fucking keeping them in there?!" The screamed, "What? So they can fucking kill each other? Then you would have to worry about it, right? You pathetic, cowardly son of a bitch," she snarled.

"We had no other option," The lieutenant explained, somehow managing to keep his voice calm, though it raised an octave as he spoke, "And as I said, it doesn't concern you."

Meyers pushed through Brianna and Sunny to spit on the soldier's boots. "And you dare question my morals, 'soldier'. Shippin' me off to the slammer so you could sit here with yer thumbs up yer ass and condemn innocent people."

A trace of recognition flickered in the lieutenant's eyes. "Ah, Clifton Meyers," he said, keeping his tone neutral. "Looks like you managed to escape with the other convicts. Are you also calling yourself a Powder Ganger?" He growled, "I'm afraid we'll have to..." He shook his head. "Fuck. We're desperate, here. If you can get rid of those mines then feel free to go on ahead. We need all the help we can-"

The deafening 'boom' of twenty mines exploding silenced the lieutenant, serving to almost blow him off his feet in the process. Brianna stood with her pistol drawn, still aiming it at the remains of the bridge. The group stared at her with eyes widened in alarm and confusion.

"Glad that's settled. Now get out of my fucking way."


	9. Reckless

**AN: I would like to apologise to anyone who thinks I have stolen the content in this story. I have been trying to sort things out and really improve on my writing, and I hope now that I can really stand on my own two feet as a writer. I really want to improve my work, so any critique would be hugely appreciated. My apologies.**

**Primm**

** July 20**

** 08:45**

"Aw, great! Now you've really fucked everything up!"

Brianna leapt over what remained of the makeshift wooden bridge, ignoring the lieutenant's outraged screams about death, shooting, hostages... Something like that. She unholstered the 1911 at her thigh as Meyers and Sunny crossed the remains of the bridge to meet her at the town's entrance, Cheyenne closely following suit. They'd probably alerted every convict in the town with the explosion, but the place was dead and empty so far, with nothing to indicate that anyone had been here in a long time. Strange...

"You think they're inside with the hostages?" Sunny wondered, frowning as she scanned the empty roads The place was quiet and eerily still, not all like the place Brianna had seen when she had come to take the delivery job in the first place.

Silently, they continued on, passing the rundown Mojave Express building as they went. Half of the structure was derelict and crumbling; parts of the roof had collapsed in and the redbrick was slowly falling to dust. The half of it that still stood upright was used as the main office building, as well as the home of the elderly couple that worked there. Brianna didn't bother to spare the place another glance until Sunny's voice tore through the heavy silence.

"Oh my god..." She whispered, edging slowly closer towards the building, her eyes wide and fixated on the pavement. "Shit... I think... I think this is is... Oh my god..."

Brianna frowned, directing her attention to the wall where Sunny was pointing at. Her eyes widened in alarm as she saw the body of a young, black male slumped against the blood splattered wall, its eyes staring off into the distance, wide and unseeing. She noticed the package in its splayed hand first, a crude brown parcel, now untied and lying open to display its contents. A pair of oversized fuzzy dice lay in the middle of the brown packaging. The thing was a useless device, with no practical function whatsoever. But... that had been the point, hadn't it?

"Looks like this guy... Didn't survive the bullet to head..." Brianna said, eyeing the gaping gunshot wound with disgust. The bullet had gone right through the middle of his head as intended, spraying blood and brain matter over his pressed checkered shirt. Poor bastard, killed because of a stupid, worthless package that had been left behind in the dirt to rot along with him. They hadn't even buried the body.

"Best not stick around too long; we don't know who's watching us. Weapons ready," she rapped, reluctant to spend another second next to the corpse. Her own 1911 was already in her hand as Sunny robotically did as as she was ordered. Meyers kept his pistol holstered at his thigh and instead readied the Beretta at his back. Silently, they crept past the Mojave Express building and ducked against the wall of the 'Vikki & Vance', the town's casino.

"Old Poseidon gas station..." Meyers muttered, slowly moving to peer around the right side of the building. "And a small shack just outside it. That'll be our only cover if we wanna get any further. About five of them out there with hostages, up by an old shack. There's gotta be more, though, and we ain't in the best of positions to go takin' them all out. Don't wanna alert the rest of 'em that might be inside."

"Then we do this quietly," Sunny suggested. "Finish off the guys over there first and get the hostages freed." On second thought, she added, "Or we could take out the masses first, but I don't see any sign of 'em, and it might be dangerous for the hostages. Plan for action, sweetie?"

Brianna thought hard for a long moment, but the word 'plan' had never been part of her vocabulary. "We take 'em out one by one, Sunny taking out the guys holding hostages and Meyers and I taking out whoever's on the other side of this building, or whoever's inside. If they're in groups we have explosives to take care of things quickly. Sunny, you gotta make sure no one comes else comes outta those buildings and tries to creep up on me and the old man, and you gotta try to free the hostages before anything else happens. Think you can do that?" She asked, getting a short nod in return. "Okay, when you hear the first shot go off, take cover behind the shack by the station, then take those fuckers out, alright?"

She didn't wait for a response, letting Meyers maintain his cover at the side of the Vikki & Vance. She peered around the edge of it to see a group of at least seven convicts by the Bison Steve one group of three huddled together and sharing cigarettes, and the rest patrolling the area, pistols and baseball bats at the ready. Brianna quickly rushed for the Mojave Express and ducked behind the ruined left side, gradually making her way over to the back of the building. From here she could peek out and take a few of them down with her rifle before they realised what was going on, but she didn't fancy her chances against a large group on her own. She could only hope that Meyers knew what he was doing.

Brianna glanced at the old man from behind cover and he nodded in confirmation. Setting her Colt aside, she shrugged the rifle off her shoulder and moved into position. Lifting the scope to her eye she could see the nearest convict slowly approaching the Mojave Express. Shit! If she didn't do something, her cover would be blown and the entire plan (or what there was of it) destroyed. Aiming for the neck, she slowly pressed against the trigger and the first shot was fired, exploding into the silence. Brianna watched the convict as his eyes widened in alarm and desperate instinct drove him to desperately claw at his throat, blood gushing from his mouth and ears and dribbling down the front of his armour. He was on the ground in a matter of seconds, desperately twisting his body around to search for the sniper in the shadows. He fell still and lifeless before he could find her.

In the distance she heard a short grumble of "what the fuck?" before another shot cracked through the air. Meyers emerged from cover, aiming right for the head as another convict moved towards them, the rest slowly realising that they were being attacked and springing into action. It was about time. Another convict took Brianna's bullet in the chest, sending him down before he could take another step. She sent another bullet flying through his skull, just in case his armour had absorbed the first.

"Now this is true old frontier justice!" Meyers hooted, sending another shot through the convict's chest before diving back into cover to reload his rifle. Brianna shouldered her own gun and reached for her pistol, sending three shots whipping through the air and into the chest of a nearby convict who had been running towards her with a baseball bat firmly grasped it both hands. Rolling out from cover, she crouched and found three more criminals ganging up on the sheriff, who managed to take another down before Brianna finished off the remaining two.

"Happy fucking birthday!" A voice called, and Brianna could only look on in alarm as the bastard lit a stick of dynamite and tossed it in her direction. Fuck! She threw herself behind the wall of the casino, dodging the worst of the explosion although it rang loudly in her ears, sending a spike of pain shooting through her head. Deafened, she looked around frantically for Meyers, not seeing him until another shot went off, downing the final convict.

"And that is that," Meyers said, shouldering his rifle and rubbing his hands together. "Better go check on Sunny. Things are pretty quiet over there now."

Brianna nodded and together they moved quietly to the back of the casino, pistols held ready in case they were cornered. The headed along the back of the building before turning-

"Hold the fuck up!" A voice threatened, "or sheriff, grandma and Stumpy over here get blown to fucking pieces!"

Brianna stopped dead, Meyers doing the same at her side. In front of the dilapidated shack kneeled the group of hostages, each bound and gagged. An elderly woman with weather-beaten brown skin wore a stony expression as she stared down the convict in front of her. To her left was a middle-aged guy who looked like he was about to piss himself with fear, and to her right was Sunny, her face bright with the shame of being captured, although the fresh corpses littered around the area indicated that she had put up a strong fight before they'd finally managed to take her down.

"Ah, shit..." Brianna grumbled, slowly raising her pistol at the first convict, who seemed to be the one in charge. He was holding a flamethrower, she noticed, and was aiming it at the row of hostages. It would seem that the other four were simply there to look threatening, three claiming their own hostage to aim their pistols at, and one more swaggering over towards them with a lead pipe swinging lazily at his side.

Brianna huffed out a heavy sigh of irritation. Dammit, she really didn't like hostage situations. Negotiating with idiots was such a bore. "Look, I'm gonna make this real simple," she explained slowly, looking to the flamer-wielding convict and continuing, "I am going to shoot you in the head. Then, my friend Meyers is going to shoot this guy here," she nodded at the man now standing next to her, "And then I'm gonna kill all of your friends. Okaaay?" She explained everything painfully slowly, stretching out every syllable in case the dumb bastards didn't understand what she was promising.

The flamer guy barked out a dry laugh. "I'm gonna torch your fucking friend, you dumb bitch. So lower the fucking gun or I swear to god I will fucking kill all of you and save this one-armed bitch for last, do you fucking hear me, dumbass fucking bitch?"

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?" Brianna asked, jerking her finger on the trigger and splattering the hostages with the guy's brains. Meyers got to work immediately, sending a bullet flying towards the angered convicts (who had seemingly forgotten about the purpose of their hostages) and taking the first one down without hesitation. Brianna quickly twisted her body and grabbed for the man next to her, dropping her pistol in the process and wrapping him in what she thought was a headlock. She planted a hard kick on the back of his shin before yanking the pipe from his grip and cracking it over his head, leaving a very satisfying dent in the back of his cranium before turning to the remaining convicts, all of which were too concerned on the bullets flying their way to worry about the snarky female, who quickly bent to pick up her pistol and fire six ringing shots, all of which hit one of them in the chest, before quickly reloading.

Meyers was quick to take down another convict, sending a bullet straight through his head as Brianna finished off the last with a final shot through the chest, sending him flying to the ground. She didn't waste any time after that. They had none to spare "Help me out here," she rapped impatiently at Meyers, kneeling down by Sunny and producing her knife from its holster. After tearing the tape from the woman's mouth she began to saw through the tight knots binding Sunny's hand to what remained of her wrist.

"I'm so sorry, sweetie, I really am," Sunny insisted.

"Yeah, it's fine," Brianna muttered, distracted by her current task of cutting through the woman's binds. "What happened, anyway?" She questioned.

"Doesn't matter," Sunny replied quickly, as the restraints came loose and Brianna could finally tear them off. Sighing with relief, Sunny brushed herself down and took Brianna's hand to get on her feet again. Brianna noticed that she now had a long cut on the side of her cheek. "Help me out with the others," Sunny rapped, moving towards the elderly woman next to her.

Brianna nodded and moved towards the 'sheriff' who was still shaking visibly with shock, his face deathly pale and splattered with crimson. She decided that she didn't want to hear him whine just yet and started by freeing him of his binds, Sunny doing the same for the elderly woman. After removing the ropes she roughly grabbed the tape and ripped it off, drawing a loud cry of pain for the man in front of her. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, with wavy light blonde hair and a sheriff's duster. "Who- who a-are you?" He stammered, clambering to his feet and quickly moving away from her, "What do you want?"

"These kindly people just saved your sorry behind," the woman grumbled, getting to her feet and wiping the blood from her frock, "So a 'thank you' would be greatly appreciated, I'm sure."

"Uh, yeah, th-thanks..."

Brianna shrugged. "No problem."

"Any of you kindly folks know where I could get a stiff drink?" Meyers asked, stretching his arms widely, "Wouldn't mind a little sit down before I kick this cowardly bastard out on his ass. God knows this place could use a sheriff that doesn't shit himself when someone goes 'boo'." He eyed the trembling man with distaste.

"I-I'm deputy, sir," he quivered, "Deputy Beagle."

"Yeah, yeah. Me an' you are gonna have a long conversation once we're inside somewhere cozy, you hear me, son?" He patted the deputy on the shoulder with enough strength to nearly knock him off his feet. "Now, if this lovely lady wouldn't mind," he nodded towards the elderly woman, "I would appreciate some reintroduction to the locals."

"Of course, sheriff. Right this way."

* * *

"Home sweet home, at last..."

The door swung shut behind them and all conversations fell silent as the group entered, Brianna feeling particularly jovial despite her current situation. The smell of booze hung in the air and a light cloud of smoke was visible in the darkened room, illuminated mainly by a row of floodlights on the ceiling, each one directed towards a small blue car riddled with bullet holes serving as the casino's centrepiece. The place was patrolled by a cheap Securitron with a cowboy hat and a row of slot machines whirred on either side of them, though most were busted or lying broken on the floor. Okay, so the place wasn't exactly New Vegas, but as far as cheap knockoffs went, this one looked almost welcoming, despite the fact that all of the locals were gathered here hiding from convicts and each of them carried a gun, some even aiming them at the double doors for a moment until they were certain that the newcomers weren't here to murder them all.

"And you must be the ones who kicked those convicts out on their asses, ain't that right?" The voice came from a wrinkled old man who strolled over to meet him. His eyes flickered with recognition as he examined the group and found Brianna. "Well I'll be damned. Looks like ol' Mister New Vegas ain't gone crazy after all. Nice to see yer still kicking, miss Six, lookin' bright and breezy as usual..."

"Nice to see you too, Johnathan." Brianna flashed the old man a smile.

"Eh, Joshua, actually..." He corrected her. "And nice to see you, Sheriff." He tipped an imaginary hat to Meyers, "And you too, missy." He nodded to Sunny. "Guess we have all of you to thank for saving our asses. Even brought back my lovely wife, safe and sound." He smiled, holding a hand out to the old woman they'd saved, who had already introduced herself as Ruby Nash. The old woman beamed and wrapped her arms around him for a long, tight hug.

After a few moments, Meyers awkwardly cleared his throat. "Well, now that that old business is cleared up, I wouldn't mind a stiff drink courtesy of the beautiful Mrs. Nash," he looked to the old woman who was still blushing as she pulled away from her husband.

"It would be the least I could do, dear. Have you had anything to eat yet?"

"No ma'am, but I would certainly appreciate one of your delicious casseroles. And I believe my humble acquaintance here has some business to discuss with your husband."

Brianna gestured towards her scarred head in confirmation.

"Ah, of course. I can see that you'd want some answers about that old business up on the hill. Our little home in the Mojave Express won't fit all of you, but Ruby will fix something up for you at the bar. I could use a couple o' drinks myself..."

"I think we all could," Sunny replied, scratching her mutt behind the ears.

The followed the elderly couple to the backroom of the casino where the bar could be found. It was nothing more than a long bar table with a number of stools, and two shelves on the wall were lined with bottles of alcohol. A working fridge could be found on the wall next to the door, a welcome sight for the three thirsty companions.

Brianna found herself a stool next to Sunny as Joshua Nash searched the fridge. After a few moments of rummaging and the clinking of bottles, he produced two beers in each hand and set them out on the bar. "Help yourselves to whatever else you need," he said, "I see that miss Six and I have some matters to discuss."

"You're damned right..." Brianna grumbled.

"Well, I'll scoot back home and cook you all up something," Ruby Nash spoke gently, "I shouldn't be more than half an hour if I can get that old grill up and running." And with that she hobbled off.

Brianna swung around on her chair to face Joshua Nash, who had seated himself just next to her. "Right. Business."

He nodded. "You comfortable talkin' about this here?"

"Trust me, I couldn't care less at the moment." She grabbed a bottle opened from the table and opened her beer with a 'clink'. "Dammit, I haven't thought too hard about this," she realised, taking a long swig from her bottle. "What can you tell me about that job? I need all the details you can spare and nothing less."

"Yes, yes. It was a strange job, that one. Six couriers including yerself were sent up to New Vegas to deliver different things. Five of 'em were completely worthless. A chess piece, a fuzzy dice, a keyring. Things like that. You carried what I believe was a chip of some sort."

"Platinum chip," she confirmed.

"That's the one. Not sure what it was for, but it was special alright."

"Special how? How did you know?"

He sighed. "Somethin' strange about it, somethin' wrong. Actually, if my memory serves me correctly, you weren't the first one to be offered the job. There was a man before you, never told me his name. Strange guy, always wore this mask. He was all set to carry your package until he sees your name next on the list, asking' if it was for real. I said sure as lack o' rain, Brianna O'Reilly's still kickin'. Then he pulled out, just like that. 'Let Courier Six carry the package' he said, like the Mojave would sort you out or somethin' like that. And that was the last I ever saw of him. Just walked on out. Bastard."

_What the fuck?!_

"Okay, okay, uh..." Dammit. What the hell did any of that even mean? Some bastard knew that she would get shot and was all too eager to let it happen? How? And why? What did the hell did she do this time?

"Do you know who gave the delivery order at least?" Sunny asked.

The old man shook his head. "Everything was paid up front, so no questions asked."

Shit. Guess there was only one thing left to ask. "Did you see a man in a checkered suit? Gelled hair, old world suave thing going on? Went by the name of Benny, though folks probably called him 'cocksucker' or 'jackass'. Anything along those lines, actually. Sound familiar?"

"Huh... Yeah, I saw him snoopin' around here. Came up to ask me a few questions about deliveries, but he was vague enough about what he asked. You should ask Deputy Beagle, just try not to frighten him too much. Don't want him shittin' his pants or nothin'."

Meyers got to his feet. "Yeah, I think I'd like to have a good long talk with that son of a bitch about how he's been runnin' my god damned town."

Brianna and Sunny stood up to join him, thanking Joshua on the way out, although he hadn't been the greatest help. They found the Deputy standing by the car in the centre of the casino, pretending to read the signs surrounding it. Poor bastard was still white as a sheet and was probably still trying to get his bearings after almost being burnt alive. Brianna couldn't find any sympathy for him.

"Beagle," she called, seeing his eyes grow wide with panic as he saw her approaching him, "I think you have some information for me. Care to tell us anything?"

"I-I don't know what you're talking about. I-I don't know anything about what happened, those convicts they- they just came in and I didn't mean to-"

"Shut the fuck up."

"Y-yes ma'am..."

"You saw a man in a checkered suit around here, 'bout a week ago, right?"

"Uh, n-no, I..."

"Cut the crap, yes you did."

"I don't know what you-"

Meyers grabbed him by the shoulder. "Speak up you cowardly fuck or I might personally demonstrate some frontier justice on your sorry ass. Tell her what she wants to know. You don't have 'nothin to hide, ain't that right?"

"Okay, okay, yeah, h-he was asking me questions that's all. Something about couriers and the Mojave Express. Something about a guy that lived here and a chick named Six. Mentioned a few other people too. Wanted to know where they were going. I didn't know, I swear! I just told him I didn't know anything and then... And then a gun went off in the middle of the night and he killed Daniel and went off... Had these Khans with him, man and woman..."

"Did they say where they were going?!"

"Uh, said something about, uh, going to Goodsprings and then..."

"Why?"

"Uh, because..."

"Because I was headed there!" Brianna screamed, lunging for the man and grabbing by the throat. "You fucking knew, didn't you? I saw you at the bar that night I stayed over, remember? You heard, you knew where I was going, didn't you? Then I leave town, you tell Benny and his goons and they intercept me before I reach my destination. Why the_ fuck_ would you do that?!"

Beagle looked close to tears. "They fucking cornered me, alright?!"

"You cowardly fuck," she spat.

"I'm sorry, I..."

"Listen to me, you piece of shit," she hissed, her tone laced with venom, "That bastard shot me in the head. I will live in pain for the rest of my life. I will be scarred forever because you couldn't keep your fucking mouth shut!" She swung from him, her fist connecting with the right side of his jaw. She shoved him backwards as he cried out and hit him again. And again. "Where the fuck are they?!"

"Nipton! They're going to Nipton!" He cried, backing away from her and gripping a nearby podium for support. "I don't know why, I swear! I swear! Don't hit me again!"

"Brianna."

Sunny's voice was stern, knocking Brianna back to her senses. "Don't do this, sweetie. He's a stupid coward, but leave him be. You know everything you need to, alright?"

She shot an icy glare at the cowering deputy before taking a short step back. "Fine. We're heading to Nipton first thing tomorrow. Meyers, you wanna talk to this bastard or what?"

He clapped his hands together, "Would I ever. It's been real nice, girlies, hopefully I'll see you 'round sometime. Now I gotta get back to runnin' this damned town and talkin' some sense into those who find themselves..." He looked at Beagle, "Incapable of doing so in my place. Safe travels now. Hope you get what yer lookin' for, darlin'. And you too miss Smiles, whatever that may be." He tipped his hat to them both.

"You really think the NCR are gonna give you back your position?" Sunny asked doubtfully, an eyebrow raised in question.

"I'd like to see them turn me down after I saved their sorry asses," he grunted, "And if all else fails, we did uncover some interesting information on their current state up here. How badly they're doin' and all that. And I am not impartial to blackmail."

"Huh," was all Sunny had to say to that.

'"Well, good luck with that," Brianna smiled. "See ya, sheriff."

They said their final goodbyes and Meyers left, taking a reluctant Deputy Beagle with him. "What do we do now, sweetie?" Sunny asked, watching the sheriff go as she crouched down to hug her dog. "Some of Mrs. Nash's casserole sure sounds good," she beamed.

* * *

They joined the Nash family for a pleasant dinner, the topic of conversation mainly controlled by Joshua Nash. They talked about old music, old jazz and hard rock being the old man's favourite. They talked about the vault they grew up in and the cattle ranch they used to own. They were a sweet couple and Brianna enjoyed their company for a while as they ate. The radscorpion gland casserole smelled delicious, but Ruby had smacked it out of Brianna's hand immediately before she put it on her mouth. "You have a busted lip, sweetheart," the old lady had pointed out, "If that poison hits your bloodstream it'll kill you stone dead. Here, have my potatoes instead..."

They left at around eleven with the promise of a free room waiting for them at the Vikki & Vance casino. "Just one?" Brianna flashed a teasing smirk as the pair made their way back to the casino. "Won't that be fun?"

Sunny raised an eyebrow and made a point of taking a long step away from her. "No thanks, sweetie. Keep things on the buddy level, right?" Her tone suggested that she wasn't as serious as she tried to make herself sound, "And try not to molest me in my sleep or anything, alright?"

"No promises."

"Well, good luck trying!" She sang, "Cheyenne will defend my innocence to the death, won't you, sweetie?" The dog let out an uncertain "aroo?" in return.

Together they managed to find their room and Sunny immediately fell onto the bed, Cheyenne leaping up to lie with her master. The room itself was large enough, with a double bed big enough for Brianna to fit beside the tiny blonde. Much to their surprise, the room was actually quite nice in it's own shabby, unkept way. A working lightbulb hung from the ceiling and two posters had been taped onto the walls, one with a beautiful woman in a red dress and the other of a handsome man with huge hair and a strange white suit. They were labeled simply 'VERA' and 'THE KING'. Across the room was an open door revealing an en suite, with a fully intact bath, sink and toilet. There was even a polished mirror on the wall. Huh. Not bad for a New Vegas knockoff.

"So, sweetie, what do you plan on doing?" Sunny asked.

"Right now... I'm gonna take a bath," she stated matter-of-factly, stripping off her armour and kicking it onto the floor before heading to the bathtub. After a few moments of nothing but the sound of trickling water, Brianna squeaked, "It's warm! We have hot water, people! Fuck yeah!"

"And once again I have to see you in all of your glory," Sunny called.

"Don't pretend you aren't totally into me," Brianna grinned from behind the door of the en suite, her underwear now abandoned on the floor. "Feel free to join me if you want!"

"Pass."

Smirking, Brianna turned to the mirror and examined the healing scar on her face. It looked better, at least, and it was losing it's rough texture as it healed. She noticed that the scar tissue had grown a shade lighter, which was probably a good sign. The rest of her cuts and bruises were slowly healing and overall, she looked a lot less like shit than usual. "Hey Sunny!" She called, "Mind bringing me a med kit? And my bathroom sex offer is still standing if you want it?"

"The med kit should do for now, sweetie." Sunny appeared at the door, green medical kit in hand. Her face was a mixture of shock and alarm as she found Brianna naked in the bathroom, examining her wounds closely. "Ooooh, oh, okay!" She said, averting her eyes and handing the med kit over to the naked woman. "I think I've, uh, seen enough of you for one day, sweetie..."

"Trust me, sweetie, you ain't seen nothing yet," Brianna promised, flashing the blonde a wolfish grin before taking the med kit from her. Sunny nodded slowly, continuing to avert her eyes as Brianna fished for a Stimpak. She winced visibly as she slid the needle into her neck, though the painkillers worked almost instantly and drove away the stinging. With any luck, the stims would heal up her scar tissue completely until it was only a shade darker than her own skin, with the same smooth surface. She had heard that back in the old days, people would take months, even years to heal without stimpaks. She supposed that meant there were advantages to a nuclear war after all.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" Brianna set the empty stim on the sink and slid into her bath, the water now steaming hot, just the way she liked it. Closing her eyes, she dunked her head under the clear water and allowed her hair to soak. The water was painful on her healing wounds, but the stims wound fix that after a while.

"Sure, sweetie. What is it?"

Emerging from the water, she grabbed a nearby towel to wipe her eyes with before looking at Sunny, her demeanour noticeably more serious despite her being naked in a bathtub. "What happened out there, with the hostages? How the hell did they manage to tie you up like that without leaving more than one mark on you?"

Sunny blew out a sigh. "I don't really-"

"Come on, Sunny."

"Okay, okay, I knew the guy, alright? Mister Flamethrower? Yeah, I, uh... I knew him before he got banged up by the NCR. He was... Well, I guess was a friend of mine. Kinda..."

Brianna lifted an eyebrow. "You really need to tell me what's going on with you."

"We traveled together for a while, he got hooked on chems and then he was arrested by the NCR. I couldn't bring myself to kill him and I panicked, then they managed to tie me up. That's all that needs to be said, alright?" She stood up and left the room, allowing the ringing silence to return.

**AN: Wow, a thousand viewers already?! Thanks so much! I would really appreciate some reviews to see how I'm doing from a reader's perspective, and I'd be super grateful. Anyway, I've just noticed how many, er, expletives I've used in this chapter alone so I feel that thisis probably necessary:**

**This story is rated T for very strong language, sexual themes, violence and gore. Everything belongs to Bethesda, et cetera, cetera. Thanks so much again for the reviews and views, I really hope you enjoy the next chapters.**


	10. Long Way Nowhere

**A New Vegas Knockoff**

** 21 July**

** O7:26**

She was shoved unceremoniously from bed as the first rays of light peered in from the tattered curtains. The sound of running water could be heard from far away, and Brianna released a low, inarticulate grumble as her headache made itself known again, thumping fiercely against her skull. This morning it was stronger than usual, although the pain had never quite ceased since she had first woken up in Goodsprings. Occasionally it dulled to the point where she didn't notice it as much, but she was never truly free of the pain unless she was asleep, and even then it would be the first thing to greet her when she woke up. Damn, how she wished she could sleep for another hour, at least. Her eyelids were heavy from the fog of early morning grogginess, and her muscles ached from the hard bed and long day of walking. Still, she couldn't put things off for much longer...

Forcing her exhausted limbs to cooperate, Brianna sat herself upright and pressed a hand against her temple in a pathetic attempt to dull the slow, drumming pain. Her legs felt clean and smooth as she brought them up against her chest, and she took slow, deep breaths until the pain dulled. Damn, it sure was nice to feel somewhat clean and hygienic again. Even her hair felt soft and fluffy as it fell lightly over her face.

She slowly got to her feet, gripping the edge of the bed for support as she finally got her footing. She was never surefooted in the morning, not when she finally had a warm bed to sleep in and something to actually rest her head on. After a wide stretch Brianna rubbed her eyes and looked around to see Cheyenne guarding the bathroom door. By the sound of moving water, it would seem that Sunny was enjoying a bath on the other side of it. She doubted that the blonde would be out any time soon, so Brianna groped for her rucksack underneath the bed and searched for her clothes. She had already scrubbed her metal armour clean, so she decided that the garment would be best for their trip and began to put it on, her limbs still leaden and clumsy from hours of blissful disuse.

Ah yes, the trip. Where the hell were they headed, anyway? She knew a few routes to Nipton, but times had changed since she had last been this far south. Other than her first visit to Primm to receive her package, Brianna hadn't been spending much time in the Mojave, and things were changing rapidly, what with the growing tension between the NCR and Legion. She couldn't possibly know which route would be the safest to take and which one would lead her into a nest of Cazadores, so it would seem that going in blind was the best option available to her at this point. And why the hell would Benny and his goons have been in Nipton anyway? The place was a playground for raiders and whores, none of which would care for a platinum chip. But it was their only lead to follow, after all. And on the bright side, they could stop at the Outpost for a drink on the way there.

Brianna blew out a sigh and glanced at Cheyenne, who was staring inquisitively back at her. She wondered if she had any chance of getting past the terrier and into the bathroom. Deciding to chance it, she moved to the door, staring the dog down for a moment before gripping the doorknob and making a point of slowly turning it. The mutt moved out of the way without a sound of protest, thankfully, and Brianna slipped inside, shutting the door behind her and resisting the urge to sink down against it in defeat. Damn, her head pounded.

"Woah, do you mind?!" Sunny squeaked, reflexively moving to cover up her bare chest and sink down low into the bubbly water. "Private area, sweetie. I closed the door for a reason."

"I gotta brush my teeth."

Sunny groaned, "Would arguing with you be pointless and needlessly time consuming?"

"Indeed."

"Fine. Just don't look."

Brianna smirked and lifted her newly acquired tube of toothpaste from the sink. She squirted a row of the white paste onto her finger and ran it under the water for a moment before sticking it in her mouth and beginning to 'brush' away the morning breath, ignoring Sunny's look of bewilderment. "I ont av a toofbwush" she managed.

"I noticed..."

They were quick to get ready after that, Sunny throwing on her beaten leather armour and boots after drying her hair with the only towel that didn't have a gaping hole or two torn through the middle. They spent another half hour sitting on the bed with Cheyenne and rationing what remained of their food and water supply, the radio whispering soft lyrics in the background about beginning again in the night. It wasn't long before they were off again, singing along to whatever crap was playing on Brianna's Pip-Boy as they returned to the NCR encampment just outside.

"Hey, where the hell do you two think your going?!"

Brianna stopped, her hand instinctively tensing on the butt of her pistol as she looked around to see the familiar angry face of the NCR guy from earlier. Commander something, right? Brianna frowned. The guy looked pretty pissed off as he approached them, his arms straight at his sides and his nose lifted high into the air.

"Uh, problem corporal...?" Brianna asked.

"Lieutenant," he spat in return, "And yes, I'm afraid that there is a problem. You two directly disobeyed orders, endangered not only the hostages in Primm, but also our NCR troops out here, and those further out in the Mojave Outpost. Not only that, but you have sent us an ex-convict to take over Primm?! This is an outrageous defiance against the New California Republic, citizens, and we will not take this lightly." He narrowed his eyes at them.

"But you let the scary ex-convict have his pos-?"

"We're very sorry lieutenant, but I assure you that we only wanted to help." Sunny said quickly, interrupting Brianna mid-question. That was probably a good thing.

"Help?! In what way could you possibly have been trying to help us? By blowing up the only thing separating those convicts from our exhausted troops and stopping them from progressing further to the Outpost? What you two did was nothing but barefaced rebellion against the New California Republic, and we are in no longer in any position to take such offences lightly," he repeated, his expression stony.

"What offences?" Brianna snapped, beating Sunny two the punch, "So what if we hurt your damned feelings? You're gonna have to suck it up, lieutenant, because neither of us committed any damn crime."

He chuckled. "You really are an insolent little brat. You both committed acts of violence and murder by taking the law into your own hands and killing those convicts in an unnecessary, unprovoked attack, going strictly against NCR orders."

"They were taking shots at us!"

"Which is why you were instructed to leave in the first place!"

"Don't play that shit with me; you were desperate!"

"Can we all just calm down?!" Sunny squeaked, standing on the balls of her feet in a rather pathetic attempt to make herself seem taller.

"This is your first and final warning," he glared at the pair with icy contempt. "These are dire times, and any actions against the NCR will no longer be tolerated. Another offence and you will both be marked as enemies to the NCR, and we will shoot you down on sight."

"So you _are_ shooting civilians now, is that it? Because you're too fucking desperate to-"

She was met with a stinging slap across the face, throwing off her balance and snapping her head to one side with an alarming amount of force. "You watch your mouth around me, girl, I am a lieutenant of the New California Republic and you will treat me with respect, do you hear me?!"

"Lieutenant, I think that's enough..." The trooper on lookout called from his position. "You can't shoot her down for having a mouth on her so just let her past and save yourself the trouble."

Brianna held the right side of her face and shot an icy glare at the lieutenant. "Son of a-"

"Brianna, leave it," Sunny hissed, before looking apologetically at the lieutenant. "We're very sorry about this, I assure you that this won't happen again."

He nodded slowly, and the pair continued on without a word until the blur of mud coloured tents were far behind them. There was nothing ahead but road and sand, just as Brianna liked it. In the distance she could see two giant rangers shaking hands. She knew a woman from a while back who claimed that the statues were simply built so the NCR could wave it's dick all over the Mojave. She wasn't wrong. Who the hell spent that much time compacting vehicles and garbage to make that metal monstrosity anyway? Military bastards...

"What the hell was that?" Sunny snapped, folding her arms and looking expectantly at Brianna. "I get that you have this 'thing' where you don't want to play by anybody else's rules, but dammit Brianna, what the hell were you thinking? I know you don't want to realise this, but the NCR are above us, they're a god damned army and you go and try to piss every one of them off by running your mouth. You just can't do that, okay?"

"What the hell did you expect me to do? He was being an asshole."

"This place is full of assholes! You just have to grow up and understand when to back down. I don't wanna be lined up and shot because you couldn't keep your mouth shut."

"Look, I wasn't prepared to wait for those damned convicts to pack up and leave. What I'm doing is way too important for that. I was just doing what I had to, and those NCR fucks were desperate enough to let us go through without a fight. So tell me, Sunny, where exactly did I go wrong?"

"You don't care about anybody but yourself, do you? I am so sick and tired of risking my life for you without a single word of appreciation. You have no regard for anyone else; you don't think about a single damn thing that you do! They had every right to line us up against a wall and shoot us for what we did, whether you agree with them or not, Brianna. Because sometimes, it just doesn't matter how you feel! Just use your god damned head before you get us both killed, alright?!"

There was nothing but the sound of footsteps for a long time.

"We can stop at the NCR Outpost to trade," Sunny said dryly, "There's nothing tying me to you, and we can part ways right after that. If you don't want to put up with me, that's your problem. Think about that."

"... You know I don't wanna lose you, Sunny. Alright, maybe I fucked up a little, I... I'm sorry, okay? I don't regret a damn thing I said to those sorry sons of bitches, but I am sorry. I'll keep my mouth shut next time. Maybe."

"That's... All I needed to hear. Thank you," she replied stiffly.

Brianna nodded and they continued to walk in silence, only passing by the odd crow until Cheyenne began to growl softly, lowering her body and refusing to move any further.

"What is it, sweetie?" Sunny whispered, reaching for her binoculars. There didn't seem to be anything ahead aside from a small building close by. She couldn't find any signs of movement until Sunny lowered her binoculars to quietly point out the group of people in the distance, little more than blurs in her vision, but likely more convicts from the NCRCF. Shit. There were only four she could make out, but that was already enough to outnumber them. Still, they'd taken on a lot worse, and Brianna reached for the rifle at her back, prepared to snipe whoever was in close enough distance.

"You sure about that, sweetie?" Sunny inquired carefully, reaching for her own pistol.

"Relax, sweetie, I can take care of it," she teased, keeping low as she moved off the road and into the brambles. She was still in relatively clear sight, but if the convicts were as stupid as they looked then they would be expecting to see her on the road. Finding reassurance in her ridiculous plan, she pressed the scope to her eye and carefully lined up the shot on some female convict with a ridiculous purple mohican. She jerked her finger on the trigger and flinched as the recoil slammed against her, the shot clearly going wide, but it seemed that the convicts didn't notice. Silently thanking Chet for the weapon's silencer, she went for it again. Aimed...

A chorus of gunfire erupted suddenly, making Brianna jump in fright. She saw Cheyenne leaping for the woman's neck at the same time Sunny was firing rounds at the remaining group, getting one in the chest before ducking behind the building and making wild, erratic signals to Brianna, who only frowned in confusion as she moved out with her rifle to take out another convict, abandoning her scope. She sent the last one down with a bullet to the hand, and Cheyenne moved to finish him off.

"Bree!" Sunny called, aiming her pistol at Brianna. Wait, no... Something behind her. Ah, now the gestures were making sense. Sunny fired a shot that whizzed past Brianna's ear as she swerved around, assault rifle at the ready. A group of about five more convicts were racing towards them, alerted by the gunshots. Most had knives and cleavers, although she saw two armed with pistols. Jumping backwards, she quickly sprayed the area with a wave of bullets while frantically looking for a place to find cover. She found nothing. She managed to take down the first guy that was armed with a gun, and Sunny's bullet skimmed the leg of the second before another caught him between the eyes. All that was left to do was dodge the incoming swipes of cleavers. Another bullet from Sunny took down one of the remaining convicts, as Cheyenne sunk her teeth into the arm of another. Brianna quickly moved to reload, groping around her belt for another magazine, but she found only her four remaining frag grenades and a case of bobby pins. Throwing the rifle aside, she moved for her pistol before a searing pain cut through the unprotected fabric of her right arm. "Ow, fuck!" She screeched, a hard blow to her leg putting her down. Before she could react she felt her hair being gripped tightly as she was yanked back up, an icy blade pressed against her throat. "Ah great," she groaned, the tremor in her voice betraying her fear, "I fucking hate hostage situations..."

"Stay back blondie, or I'll fucking kill her!" The man behind her threatened, with all the loud, doubtless confidence of a guy hopped up on Psycho. Brianna remained still, her breath hitched as she looked to Sunny with an expression of wide-eyed terror. Shit, this guy was really going to kill her if she didn't do anything, but with his senses enhanced by the drugs flowing through his veins, the guy would surely sense even the slightest movement she made. Sunny took a few steps back with her gun half-raised, unsure of what to do as the convict pressed his cleaver more closely against Brianna's throat, and she felt the slightest trickle of warm liquid flowing down her neck. "I'm gonna fuckin' kill her!" He warned, obviously without a clue of what her was doing. He had planned on killing them both anyway, so she didn't see the point in the wild theatrics.

Sunny fixated her gaze sternly on a spot in the distance, somewhere behind Brianna. After a quick nod of her master's head, Cheyenne leapt into action, diving for the convict and pinning him to the ground. As he was thrown backwards, his cleaver slid along Brianna's throat. His grip was almost completely limp, and the blade only slit open the skin lightly, missing her jugular and probably not severing any veins, but she could feel the blood flow immediately and fell to her knees in shock. The man's screaming was muffled in the distance as she pressed her palm against her neck tightly. Dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit, FUCK. She didn't know what to do or how badly the wound would be and hadn't she seen something like this in a movie before and all you had to do was put pressure on it but blood was spilling between her fingers and nononononono...

"Brianna! Fuck, fuck, fuck!" There was the sound of rummaging and scraping and more hands against her neck and rummaging and scraping and something warm and soft pressed against her neck, comfortable for a moment before it was almost strangling her, wrapped around again and again and again...

And she was okay. Lightheaded, and her arm stang, but okay. Okay.

"Shit..." She croaked feebly, her vision spinning widely as she attempted to grip the sand to steady herself, pressing against the slash on her thigh. Okay... Maybe she had overreacted. She was fine now, and the cleaver had only cut her skin, just a little bit. Still, a cut throat and a shot open head and a bleeding leg and god dammit it was too much just too fucking much and she couldn't... She couldn't... Fuck she just couldn't cope and she couldn't breathe and she was blind and she was choking and sobbing and the sand flowed through her fingers and in her hair and she couldn't couldn't couldn't cope...

"Brianna, sweetie, are you okay? Just- just calm down... Brianna..." Her shoulders were shaken and she didn't want to open her eyes and it was too fucking much and there was the explosion and the shooting and the killing and the cleaver and it hurt and hurt and fuck there was just so much, so much and she never cared and now...

"I don't... Know... What to... Do..." She gasped between sobs, her body trembling and her heart rate accelerated and slowed and stopped and accelerated and slowed and stopped and her head pounded and everything hurt and ohmygodohmygodohmygod.

"Just, uh, just take deep breaths. Uh, in and out slowly..."

She fought for breath, but everything was too loud and too bright and it was all too much and she couldn't keep her damn eyes open. Sunny's hushed voice was screaming at her and she had to get up becase what kind of badass like her had breakdowns anyway and why the hell couldn't she just shut up and breathe?! Just breathe.

"In and out, okay? Just breathe... Breathe slowly..."

Okay. She could do that. Just breathe slowly. In. Out. Slowly. Calmly. She was overreacting. She just had to breathe. Just breathe. Just open her eyes. Just breathe. Just breathe. Slowly. In and out. Just breathe because she couldn't keep making a fool of herself and she was the strong one and she just had to get up... Get up...

"Fuck, I... Shit..." She took long, deep breaths, feeling her heart slowing to a steady pulse. She moved her fingers and felt warm sand slipping through them. She realised that she was lying down in the sand, the soft grains brushing against her face and tangling in her hair. She blinked against the sunlight and slowly brought herself up with shaking limbs. For now it seemed like she could breath again, though every sharp inhalation was ragged and uneven. Pain stabbed through her head and chest as she drew her legs up closer to herself, wrapping her arms around them and burying her head between her knees. "I, uh... I'm okay now, I think. Yeah... I'm okay..."

Sunny seemed reluctant to touch her, but gave her hand a reassuring squeeze as Brianna peered upwards, adjusting her eyes to the light. "Sweetie, what was that?" She asked, "A panic attack, a seizure...? I'm no Doc Mitchell, you're gonna have to tell me what's wrong, okay? What happened?"

She didn't know. She didn't know what had happened, it was like... "A panic attack, I guess. It's just... Benny, being shot, almost being killed again today. I should be used to it, I mean... I am used to it, but it just feels like... Like the whole near death experience things that happen to me all too often, actually seem real. And fuck, I just didn't know how to deal with it. I panicked. I... actually fucking panicked."

Sunny nodded, almost looking ready to hug Brianna's sandy, sweaty form, but she abstained. That was probably good for both of them, Brianna figured as she slowly got to her feet, wincing in pain at her new newly acquired flesh wound and wondering how to brush her little episode off without making Sunny worry. Hell, she'd just had a fucking mental breakdown, of course she couldn't just get over it. But she felt okay now, like all of the weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Despite the burning in her lungs and the pounding in her temples, she was fine.

Brushing the sand from her armour, she moved to collect her assault rifle and gestured towards the bodies. "Do we do anything about these?"

"You mean move them, or...?"

"Loot them."

"Yeah, I guess. We should probably find some ammo on the bodies, at least."

Brianna moved to first body without a word, only seeing the corpse for it's loot, and not for the man it had once been. She silently gathered up whatever pistol ammo she could find, tossing half of it to Sunny, who did the same in return. The convicts hadn't been holding anything else of worth, aside from a few stray sticks of dynamite, so Brianna stood up, ignoring her swimming vision and the pulsating in her head. After every body had been picked clean she began to finger her bandage gingerly. The thing was tight around her neck, but without Sunny's quick thinking she would have been dead already. The cut was probably little more than a scratch, but that wouldn't matter if it got too close to a vein or artery. She wasn't a doctor, but she was smart enough to know that you didn't survive after having your throat cut. Hell, you didn't survive after having her head blown off either, and here she was.

"I'd appreciate it if you never brought that little situation up ever again. Ever." Brianna warned, only half joking as she gathered her things up and worsened her headache by trying to shake the sand out of her hair. "And I'm not guaranteeing anything, but I will probably feel inclined to kill you if you so much say a word.

"Understood," Sunny nodded, packing up her things and calling Cheyenne to her. The dog had been busy sniffing around the dead bodies and wiping her bloodied muzzle in the sand, causing a long episode of sneezing until the sand was out of her nose again. Dumbass dog.

* * *

The rest of the journey was uneventful, the two being disturbed only once by a trading caravan passing by. After selling off their dynamite and some useless ammo they were on their way again, passing by an old Poseidon gas station before they found themselves at the bottom of a large, sloping hill lined with old, twisted automobiles of varying shapes and sizes.

"What the hell are these?" Brianna wondered aloud, running a hand along the peeling black and white paintwork of a strange vehicle with lights on top.

"That's a police car, sweetie," Sunny informed her happily, "Y'know, for law enforcers back in the day. People who drove around and stopped crime."

"Vigilantes?"

Sunny laughed, "The nonviolent kind. They had pistols, but they mostly just broke up fights, I think."

"Huh. Weird..." She muttered, passing the car and eyeing an even larger vehicle with bemusement as they continued up the road. It was oddly shaped; the front of it looked like the front of a car, but larger, and the rest was a long straight line of metal carrying a massive container of some sort. "And since you're so knowledgeable about the good ol' pre-war days, how about you tell me what this is?"

"That's, uh..." She blinked at the vehicle, "I don't actually know..."

Brianna nodded, "Pre-war days kinda sucked, right?"

"Not really. From what I know, people didn't have to fight for their lives and live on scraps day by day. They had their own food, clothes, a warm house, a family... Think about it - what do you actually own that completely belongs to you?"

"My pistol," she stated simply, "My dad gave it to me."

"And where did he get it? From another trader, probably, who would have pried it from the fingers of a corpse or something else just as morbid as that."

"Better than spending a day in one of those supermarket things, loading whatever you want into a cart and whizzing it off like it's absolutely nothing. I like being aware that I'm actually alive by gathering my own shit without it basically being handed to me."

Sunny shrugged, "Guess that's just you."

The conversation died quickly after that; talk of pre-war days seemed to annoy Sunny for some reason, and Brianna couldn't tell why. It wasn't like she had ever experienced them, so really there was nothing to miss. And why would she want a family anyway? Families were great until one of them got shot and you had to leave them behind, or when they finally sent you out on your ass to fend for yourself. Families served only to slow you down and make you feel bad about it.

"So, uh, how's your...?" Brianna gestured to Sunny's stump, the bandage now removed to show clean, freshly healed skin.

"Fine," she replied quickly, "I mean, being one handed sucks and it feels weird and I can't use a damned rifle, but other than that it's okay."

Brianna frowned at the stiffness in Sunny's tone; she didn't know what was wrong with the blonde and she wasn't willing to ask. All she wanted was to rest to her legs and have a drink - preferably an ice cold beer - before they continued on to Nipton, and they looked to be nearing the top of the hill. The NCR rangers now loomed above, casting a cool shadow over the pair as they moved onward.

"Well, this is it," Sunny remarked as they finally reached the summit. The Mojave Outpost was nothing remarkable, consisting of only two buildings and far too many traveling caravans. Traders of all sorts were passing through, selling wares, or resting themselves in an enclosed strip of land around the main office building, a shoddy brick structure of peeling white paint. The bar was just beside it, surrounding by a dilapidated chain link fence, and Brianna spotted an NCR sniper nested on the top of the building, leaning over an upturned wooden table and peering through her scope. Dotted around the area were a few rutting brahmin and broken down caravan vehicles that hadn't moved in decades. She recognised the place from when she herself had passed through on occasion, and it hadn't become any less shabby and crowded since the last time she'd stopped in.

"Nipton's that way, right?" Sunny asked, standing on her tiptoes underneath the ridiculous statues and pointing towards a spot far into the distance, black smoke billowing from it. She raised her binoculars and peered through, gnawing on her lip for a few moments. "From what I can see it looks... Bad. A lot of smoke..."

"Huh. Sniper looks pretty anxious up there. Think it's been hit by Powder Gangers?"

"That would explain the smoke, I guess."

Dammit, dammit, dammit! Her heart sank. If Powder Gangers had got the place, they wouldn't leave anyone else alive, for certain. So that was their lead gone, blown sky high by fucking Powder Gangers. What the hell did she have left?! Now she would chasing wisps of smoke on a wild goose chase to New Vegas, and even then she could only guess that that was where Checkers would be.

"Shit!" She checked her Pip-Boy just to be certain, and of course, she found a small logo to the east of the Mojave Outpost marking Nipton, just a stretch into the distance. Shit, shit shit!

"I'm so sorry, sweetie," Sunny said earnestly, lowering her goggles and scratching Cheyenne behind the ears with a sad expression. "We could check it out if you wanted? If anything, that sniper up there might appreciate it, so it wouldn't be a wasted journey."

"Yeah," she replied quietly. "C'mon, I should have enough for a couple of drinks and a bite to eat."

"Sure thing, sweetie." Sunny smiled and together they headed for the bar, going unnoticed by the surrounding caravaneers and mercenaries that were scurrying like rats through the chain link fence to find rest by the NCR headquarters. The entire structure was like a brahmin ranch gone wrong, with travelers and merchants being herded in like cattle and making just as much noise.

Sunny pushed the door open after a moment of deciding whether Cheyenne would be welcomed inside, and Brianna quickly followed suit, allowing the door to fall shut behind her. Only a few people were sat at the bar, none looking up from their drinks to welcome the latest newcomers. A barmaid whom Brianna recognised as Lacey was polishing glasses from behind the counter, and hunched over the bar and staring into a glass of whiskey was a red haired woman in a straw hat. Brianna's eyes widened in surprise as she eyed the woman more closely, recognising the red checkered shirt and her jacket of brown leather. No fucking way. It couldn't be...

"Cass!" She cried, rushing towards the bar and swinging her legs over the nearest seat. "Holy shit, it's actually you!"

Rose of Sharon Cassidy looked up from her drink with a disgruntled expression and eyed the courier for a moment, an eyebrow raising in question as the faintest trace of recognition flickered behind the aqua hues of her cautiously narrowed eyes. "Brianna O'Reilly?" She asked, her tone just as unreadable as always. Brianna could only detect a mixture of bemusement, disbelief, and slight annoyance.

"What the hell are you doing in this shithole?" Brianna asked, still shaken with disbelief.

The redhead sighed, looking reluctant to continue the conversation. "Shit got bad, alright? Fuckin' caravan's gone. Burned to ash along with the driver, and they didn't even take the cargo. They just fucking burned that too; I barely got out with my ass still intact. Bastards kept takin' shots at me 'til I was real far away. Guess that's just my fucking luck, letting you go off and play vigilante in DC 'steada savin' my sorry ass. So here I am, drinking away my fucking sorrows."

"Shit, Cass... Dammit, I'm so sorry. You did a good enough job of makin' it seem like you were just fine on your own. That's why you don't act like a cocky bastard, you idiot."

"Finally," she groaned, "I am real sick and tired of hearing stuffy NCR assholes passing through and fucking hitting on me and telling me how sorry they are that my life is fucked," she smirked, "But you were always an arrogant little bitch. Glad to see the Renegades didn't turn you into a complete pussy like the rest of these cunts."

"Yeah, and you haven't changed a bit either. Still haven't dropped the hardass dyke routine, I see."

"Fuck up - I've slept with more guys than you."

"Oh yeah, I forgot you were a skank."

Cass smirked and knocked back another drink, draining the half filled glass in a matter of seconds. "Haven't missed you one bit."

"Don't pretend you aren't happy to see me."

She heard Sunny jumping onto a seat next to Cass, Cheyenne seeming to go unnoticed as she lay down by her master's feet. "Am I missing something here?" She asked, "Looks like a reunited couple to me." She looked to Brianna with a mischievous grin, "I didn't know you were the type, sweetie."

"Cass wishes she got to have all of this," Brianna teased. "Cass, meet Sunny, my plucky companion and sidekick. Sunny, meet Cass, the annoying bitch that paid me to protect her whiny ass for a grand total of three years up north."

"Huh, nice to meet you," Sunny smiled.

Cass signalled to the barmaid for another drink. "Look, this isn't some glorious reunion party, alright? I just wanna have another damned drink in peace. Nice to see you and everything, Bree, but I just wanna be left alone. Nice to see you," she grumbled, just as Lacey slid another bottle to her, the cap already taken off.

"That'll be your last one, Cass," the barmaid warned.

"Whatever..."

Brianna shifted uncomfortably in her seat, wondering how to proceed. Cass had been her best friend for a long time, and here she was drinking her troubles away and looking like she hadn't sleep in days. As much as she wanted to leave for Nipton as soon as possible, it wouldn't feel right to just leave the woman here to rot.

She swiped the bottle of whiskey out of Cass' hand.

"What the fuck-?" She slammed her fist down on the table and rose to her feet, as if acting purely on impulse. "Give me my fucking drink and get the hell out of here if you like the shape of your god damned fucking nose," she threatened.

Brianna got to her feet, the barmaid's hesitant warnings fading into the background. "So you wanna spend the rest of your fucking life knocking back whiskey all by yourself? I am your beacon of opportunity here; you can get out of this fucking place and come with me!"

"And why the fuck would I wanna do that?"

"So we can chase bad guys all the way to New Vegas, sing to the radio and get into all sorts of trouble, just like we did back west, remember?"

"I fucking can't, alright? Fucking contract stills keeps me here, even though it's dead and burned to ash."

"Fuck the contract! They don't hold anything over you, and they can't keep you here."

"Yeah, they can. Just try telling Jackson to let me loose. 'Roads are too dangerous' he says, like no fucking shit. I didn't spend the last five years holed up in a fucking bunker; I know what the roads are like, you washed out old fuck-up."

It was Sunny's turn to pitch in. "Hey, you've been through a lot and they have no right to keep you here, no matter what they say. Your contract's dead and gone, just like you said. And no offence, but you're not exactly doing anything out here, so why would they bother tracking you down if you just, you know, left?"

"Look, kid, there's nothing else for me now, not out there and not in here." She sat herself down again on the barstool. "So gimme my drink and get the fuck out."

"Fuck you, Cass." Brianna took a swig from the bottle before sliding it across the bar. "Go on, take your damned drink and rot in this fucking place. Dammit, this isn't you, Cass. Fuck this place and fuck the NCR and just come on."

"Brianna..." Sunny began hesitantly.

"Right, right, so I join you and your little buddy and we go adventuring off into the wasteland together. Then what? I still have this stupid fucking place to come back to when it's all done."

"We'll sort it out, alright?"

"Brianna, is this... Is this a good idea?" Sunny asked.

"And what exactly do you mean by that?" Cass inquired, her tone venomous as she swivelled around on her barstool to face the blonde.

"What I mean is that I look at you and see a washed up caravaneer with a foul mouth and a bad attitude," Sunny retorted.

"Woah, woah, woah, what did you just say to me? 'Cause you sure have my attention now."

"I'm on this trip too, and I don't even know who the hell you are."

"Keep talkin' to me like, sweetie, and I will make myself your worst fucking nightmare."

"More important things to take care of here..." Brianna mumbled.

Sunny nodded. "Yeah, yeah..."

"So... Cass?" She looked to the redhead with a raised eyebrow.

The woman sighed. "Fuck it. If the NCR hunt me down and take my head, make sure to bury me face-up so those bastards can kiss my sweet ass," she grumbled, draining half of the small bottle before tucking away into her pocket. "And I'll need a strong supply of whiskey."


End file.
